


tales of a love in parts of a whole

by words_unravel



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, F/F, F/M, Genderswap, M/M, Multi, Polyamory, girl!Harry, girl!Louis, girl!Niall
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-22
Updated: 2013-11-22
Packaged: 2018-01-02 08:24:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 26,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1054614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/words_unravel/pseuds/words_unravel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Liam spends his days working at the coffee shop, doing his best to figure out the relationship between his coworkers, Louis and Harry, how exactly their friends Zayn and Niall are involved, and whether or not anyone will remember to put the caramel syrup back in its proper place. (Hint: they're all sleeping together and no, no one ever remembers.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	tales of a love in parts of a whole

**Author's Note:**

> Written for round 5 of the [Polyamory Big Bang](http://polybigbang.livejournal.com/). 
> 
> I would like to thank [teaboytoaliens](http://archiveofourown.org/users/teaboytoaliens/works) and [cloudlessclimes](http://archiveofourown.org/users/cloudlessclimes/works) for their tireless efforts to whip this thing into shape. They did a great job with the amount of time I gave them (read: very little) and any remaining mistakes are mine and mine alone. Please, if you see some glaring issue that I missed or was too tired to catch by the time I posted this, do not hesitate to let me know!
> 
> Another special kudos to [teaboytoaliens](http://archiveofourown.org/users/teaboytoaliens/works) for the brilliant title idea. <3 <3
> 
> It should be noted, that I do take some liberties with _Through the Dark_ in this fic, namely some of the writing credits and vocal parts. 
> 
> An absolutely perfect mix can be found [here](http://8tracks.com/thistidalwave/tales-of-a-love-in-parts-of-a-whole). Once again, done by the lovely [teaboytoaliens](http://archiveofourown.org/users/teaboytoaliens/works).

* * *

Liam's not quite sure how he came to be the lone male working at _Cowell's Coffee Shop_ , but he seems to be the only one who remembers to put stuff back where it goes.

"Where's the caramel syrup?" he calls out. Under his breath, he grumbles, "It's really not so hard to put stuff bac-HEY!" 

He can feel the brush of the edge of the counter top against his shorn hair, but his arse is stinging too hard to worry how close it was. Standing up, he runs a hand over his bum. Before he can say anything, Louis pops the towel again and Liam jumps back to avoid the sharp snap of the tip. 

"Louis!" 

"It is very hard, I'll have you know—" Louis leers at him, twirling the towel around her hand. She looks suggestively at his crotch long enough that Liam can feel his face heating. He manages to not put his hands in front of his trousers like he wants to do. He doesn't say anything, just frowns at Louis. 

It's the wrong thing to do, of course. Liam's disappointed faces just seem to rev Louis up a notch, take her to the next level. She's done it since the moment Liam started working here, two months ago. He can't quite figure out what he's doing wrong because she doesn't treat any of the others like that. 

Louis is twisting up the towel for another round when Harry comes out of the back. 

Harry is—well, she's probably the prettiest girl Liam's ever met. She's got curly hair that's constantly slipping out of its top-knot, wide green eyes and a slow smile. She's got dimples; stupidly endearing dimples that made Liam stumble over his own words for nearly a week when he'd started working here. 

"Stop tormenting Liam," she says, curling her entire body along Louis's side and pushing her along. Louis lets her, because Harry's the only one who can seem to get close to Louis anytime, anywhere. The rest of them, Liam's noted, always have to be allowed into her space. From where he's standing, Liam can see Harry's fingers slide under the edge of Louis's shirt. 

Then there's that.

A month after Liam had started, he'd walked into the back pantry. And walked right back out. Mostly he was thankful that that was the dry ingredients storage. It's not the first time he's caught them, and he's quite sure it won't be the last. 

"I just wanted the caramel syrup," Liam mutters. Harry throws him a quick smile over her shoulder and Liam sighs.

 

"Zayn, Zayn," Louis calls out, sprawling across one of the tables. There's half an hour until close. "Draw me like one of your French girls." Liam glances around, mortified, but the only people in the shop are Aiden and Matt. They're entrenched in a corner on the other side of the room, sharing ear buds and oblivious to everyone else. 

He's got his mouth open to tell Louis to get down when Zayn says, "Did that last week, Lou. Remember?" He glances up from the artwork he's got spread out before him and arches an eyebrow. "And then it led to that other thing?" He smirks.

Louis hums a ridiculously sexual, "Oh yeaaaah," and Liam chokes on his words instead.

Because there's also _that_. And the fact that last week, Liam'd been taking the trash out to the dumpster in the alley and had caught Harry and Zayn snogging. As far as Liam can tell, they're all sleeping with each other, in any and all combinations. Sometimes Liam can admit to a small amount of jealousy. 

 

Liam's finishing up wiping down the tables outside when Zayn comes out of the shop, dropping his bag and lighting a cig. He leans against the window and watches Liam. 

"Lou's a bit much sometimes, isn't she?" he says after a moment. Liam snorts. 

"Always," he mumbles. It feels mean though, so he adds, "I just can't figure out why she doesn't like me." When he straightens up, pushing the last chair in, he finds Zayn studying him. 

If Harry's the prettiest girl Liam's ever met, Zayn is probably the prettiest boy. It might intimidate Liam, but the two of them have geeked out about comic books and music often enough over the last few months that he can't be. For some reason though, it's just another mark against Liam in whatever book Louis's keeping track in. 

Zayn taps his fag against the sole of his shoe and puts it back into his pack. He steps forward, flinging an arm over Liam's shoulder. He leans in and Liam has a half-second to think _those eyelashes are ridiculous_ before Zayn smacks a kiss on Liam's cheek. 

"You're a nice guy, Liam Payne." Zayn pulls back, rubbing his hands through the short hairs at the back of Liam's head. "And Louis's not quite sure what to do with nice guys." Taking a step back, Zayn grabs his backpack and shrugs it over his shoulders. He looks up and grins. 

"I would like to point out, however—" He starts walking backwards, smile widening, "that I know exactly what to do with nice guys."

With that, Zayn turns around and walks away. Liam's not sure how long he stands there, mouth hanging open. 

 

Zayn doesn't do anything different after that, still comes to the shop and spreads his papers everywhere. He flirts ridiculously with Louis and snogs Harry in the alley. Now though, Liam can feel Zayn watching him every so often. Louis notices, of course she does. She takes to twisting his nipples when he's not paying attention. He never retaliates and that just makes her more determined. 

Liam despairs of ever really knowing what's going through her head. 

One nice thing however, is that when Lou's not on shift with them and it's slow, Harry's taken to bringing out her iPod. It's kind of like a consolation of sorts, Harry apologizing for Lou's behavior. Liam doesn't really care though, because they'll stand at the counter, hip to hip, fighting over what to listen to and pretending to ignore the way Zayn hand flies over his sketchpad. 

 

Summer's winding down, the fall term right around the corner. Louis's spent the last week bemoaning the fact that Harry's classes are going to take her away again. Harry seems to think that the best way to shut Louis up is to kiss her even more. They're not even discreet about it now; Liam's come to work every day to find them all over each other at the front counter. 

 

And Liam still hasn't managed to make anyone put the caramel syrup back where it goes.

"Seriously, you guys," Liam says, pushing a couple of bottles out of the way under the counter. Still no caramel syrup. With a sigh, he stands up. "Can you quit snogging for two seconds and—oh, um." 

The blonde at the counter grins at him. She's got a backwards snap-back and bright blue eyes, maybe even more blue than Lou's. Liam clears his throat. "Uh, sorry. I didn't hear you come in. Welcome to Cowell's Coffee Shop." 

If possible, she grins wider. "You must be Liam."

He has a moment to think, _Irish!_ before he actually processes her words. With a glance down—he's not wearing his name tag, mostly because Louis's taken to hiding it—he frowns. 

"You're even cuter than Lou—"

Arms wrap around her waist, lifting her up, and Zayn's shouting, "Nialler!!" over her startled squeal. He's wearing the biggest smile, his face more open than Liam's ever seen. It makes Liam swallow, his stomach flipping a little. 

"Put me down, you arse!" She elbows Zayn in the stomach and he drops her immediately. He keeps a hand on her waist though, tugging her back toward the counter. 

"Liam, this is—" 

Zayn's introduction is interrupted by the loud crash of the door to the kitchen and Harry's excited, "Niall! Niall, Niall, Niall!" She skids through the little swing door, stumbling over her feet. The blonde— _Niall_ —catches her around the middle and the two nearly go down in a pile of flailing limbs. 

While Harry hollers about not being told that Niall was coming back today, Louis steps up beside Liam at the counter. He glances over to find a soft look on her face, a small smile curving up the corner of her mouth. "You knew, didn't you?" he asks quietly. "You wanted to surprise them." She turns then and studies him for a moment. 

Reaching over, she tweaks his nipple. As usual, he's too slow to stop her. "I've no idea what you're talking about," she says and then walks out behind the counter to give Niall her own welcome. 

Liam sighs.

 

Hours later, the shop is closed and they're all smushed together on one of the sofas. Harry hasn't been two feet away from Niall since she arrived, so now she's sat next to Liam. Zayn's against the other arm of the sofa, opposite Liam, with Louis tucked under his arm. Her legs are sprawled over Harry's lap, toes tucked under Liam's thigh. 

Liam's not quite sure how he got here, but he's got a lapful of blonde Irish female. She's a light weight on his legs, there’s practically nothing to her, but Liam just watched her put away more food than he's ever seen anyone eat in one sitting. 

"Your metabolism must be ridiculous," he says, and she groans. 

"It's horrible. I can't ever put any weight on." 

"Yeah," Louis snorts. "Terrible."

"Fuck off! At least you got tits, Lou." Niall flicks her off, staring forlornly down at her chest. Harry leans forward, brushing her lips at the corner of Niall's mouth. Liam does his best not to stare.

"I think you're perfect," Harry says, and Liam watches in fascination as a blush makes its way down Niall's pale neck. 

"Shove off," she mumbles, pushing Harry back. The movement presses her into Liam's chest and without thinking, he puts a steadying hand on her hip. She doesn't say anything though, just settles comfortably against him. The snapback was lost ages ago; her hair tickles against Liam's chin. 

A moment later, Niall swings her legs up and over Harry's lap, slotting them with Louis's. Harry doesn't seem to mind though, just grins wide and curls her fingers around Niall's ankle. 

"Spending time with me da is great, but s'good to be back," Niall says quietly. Liam can feel her breath, soft and warm, against his throat. It's nice, comfortable, and for the first time Liam feels like he fits. 

 

Louis is on a tear. 

She won't let Harry anywhere near her, and Zayn's out of the shop, helping Niall get settled—Liam's fairly sure now what that entails—back into the flat they apparently share. So there's no one left that can pull her out of whatever funk she's in. 

Harry relegates her to the back to work on pastries and such after she nearly makes a customer cry. Every so often Liam can hear the clang of dishes and it makes him wince. Three guesses who's going to have to clean up the mess, he thinks, and the first two don't count. 

He immediately feels bad for thinking it. Obviously something is bothering Louis, but every time Liam sends a questioning look Harry's way, all he gets is a shrug and a sad smile. 

"Maybe you should call Nia—" is all Liam gets out before Louis barges through the door and slams a tray full of cupcakes on the counter beside him. They're perfectly iced.

"Niall," Louis informs him in an icy tone, "is busy fucking Zayn right now. Leave them be." Then she's gone, back through the swinging door to the kitchen. A sharp clatter a second later makes Liam and Harry both wince.

Liam glances over and finds Harry staring after her, bottom lip worried between her teeth. "Is that the problem?" he asks quietly. Harry just shakes her head. 

It doesn't get any better for the rest of the day. 

 

Liam sends Harry home shortly after their mid-afternoon rush. Thursdays are notoriously slow after that, and Harry looks about to drop. She'd tried to talk to Louis twice; the second time she'd come back pale-faced and the closest to crying Liam's ever seen her. Liam's starting to get a little mad. 

He bustles her out the door with a quick kiss on her cheek. It makes her stumble a little, eyebrows shooting up in surprise. Liam closes the door quickly, cutting off whatever she's going to say. He can feel his face heating as she stands on the other side of the glass, just looking at him. The corners of her mouth are tilted up and the pinched look at the corners of her eyes has lessened. 

Liam makes a 'shoo' motion and Harry laughs. It's a stupidly happy sound, even muffled by the door between them, and Liam can't help smiling. She blows him a quick kiss and then she's gone. 

He turns, smile falling when he finds Louis behind the counter. After a second, she huffs and then slams her way back into the kitchen. Liam thinks about the look on Harry's face and feels another flash of irritation. Before he can decide what he's going to do, however, a small group of people come tumbling in the door and he has to do his job. 

He'll talk to her later then. 

 

Liam goes through the closing duties like an automaton. It's a list of things to do and Liam's good at lists. They're simple and straightforward, unlike the girl in the kitchen who's been banging pans together like her life depends on it.

Liam wonders how someone can be so angry for _so long._

It seems to be getting worse, too. Frowning, Liam shoves the mop against the counter and makes his way back to the kitchen. Louis's there, elbow deep in soapy water. As Liam watches, she scrubs furiously at a stainless steel mixing bowl and then tosses it into the other sink. The loud clang makes Liam wince.

"Lou—"

"Fuck off, Payne," she snarls. Another clean pan gets flung.

This is ridiculous. 

Liam strides over, wrapping a hand around her arm. "You're acting—" he tugs at her, trying to get her to turn around. She resists, pulling out of his grip, "like a spoiled brat, Louis Tomlinson." 

He goes for her wrist this time, trying to still her movements, but she evades him. "Dammit, Lou!" He finally gets his fingers around her wrist. She's got bones like a bird, he thinks, tugging her around to face him.

It's obvious she's been crying, her face splotchy, eyes red and swollen. Even now they look a bit wet and Liam's got his mouth open—to say what, he's not sure—when she makes this strangled scream through closed teeth and shoves him. Startled, he stumbles back, his grip on her wrist falling away as he tries to get his balance. 

"Why—" She shoves him again. "Is it always you?" Another push. 

Liam can feel the water from her hands seeping into his shirt. He's never been more confused in his life. 

"Lou? What's—" She makes another one of those strangled screams and pushes at him again. It's weaker this time, and Liam manages to get both her wrists in his hands before she gets another shove in. Whatever Liam's expecting, it's not for Louis to collapse against him. It's definitely not for her to begin crying, harsh, gasping sobs that make Liam's heart hurt to hear. 

Normally Louis's personality makes her larger than life, but right now, she feels tiny. Liam pulls her in closer, an arm around her waist. He curls a hand around the back of her neck as she continues to cry, thumb rubbing softly behind her ear. He's not sure what to say, so he just mumbles soothing nonsense, lips brushing the smooth silk of her hair. 

He's not sure how long they stand there, but after a while Louis's crying slows until it's just a quiet hiccup every so often. 

"Louis?" She goes rigid at the sound of his voice, and Liam wants to curse. "Lou—" he tries again. Without a word, she pushes out of his arms. Liam reaches out and she slaps at his hand. 

"Don't." Her voice is ragged.

Ignoring her, he manages to brush his fingers over her elbow. Louis jumps like she's been stung and side-steps his next move. "Piss off, Payne." The words are harsh, but there's no heat behind them like before. Before Liam can respond, Louis takes off, leaving him standing in the middle of the kitchen, alone with a wet shirt and a million questions. 

 

Louis's been avoiding him. 

Which, given they work nearly the same shifts at a fairly tiny coffee shop, is quite a feat. Liam doesn't push even if he's insanely curious. She and Harry seem to be okay again, and Louis doesn't even comment when she finds Liam and Harry pressed side by side, listening to Harry's iPod. Liam goes to move, but Harry just makes a disgruntled noise and tucks a finger in his belt loop to keep him close.

Louis goes to wipe down the tables, ignoring them, and Harry and Liam pretend not to watch her. 

 

Niall runs hot. It’s something Liam's found out first hand since she’s decided that she'd rather use him as a chair than, well, an actual chair. Niall's chattering on about something but Liam's not really listening, distracted by the heat of Niall in his lap. Also, Niall talks with her entire body. Which means she wiggles. 

A lot. 

He can see Zayn smirk at him from his spot on the sofa. Liam scowls and Zayn cracks up. It makes the collar of his shirt dip, flashing the sharp cut of his collarbone and the peak of black lettering inked there. Liam glances up to find Zayn staring at his mouth. That's when he realizes he's been chewing on his lip. 

Liam lets his forehead thump against Niall's shoulder. She pats his head and keeps talking. And wriggling. 

He needs to find a new job. One where everyone is ugly and not sleeping together. It's entirely possible his sanity may depend on it. 

Still lost in his thoughts, it's the mention of Louis that catches his attention. Zayn's sitting up now, leaning forward with a frown on his face. "What about Louis?" Liam asks.

Niall leans back a little so she can look at him. Her voice is quiet when she repeats, "Lou's mum lost her job last week." She sighs. "Again."

"Fuck," Zayn says, shaking his head. He slumps back against the sofa cushions. "Jay's got the worst luck, I swear." Niall hums an agreement, shifting to curl an arm around Liam's back and tuck her head on his shoulder. She even smells warm, Liam thinks absently, like sunshine. His hand settles on her hip without him noticing. 

"She going to have to dip into her workshop fund?" Zayn asks after a minute. 

"Probably," Niall answers. "The girls are still too young to work and the house payment'll still be due. And I know Lottie's been sick a lot lately." She sighs. 

"Fuck," Zayn says again.

Liam feels lost. "Workshop fund?" 

 

It’s a ten-week acting workshop, Zayn explains, all-inclusive and thus expensive; something a local theater director had recommended to Louis over a year ago. Louis played a supporting character in that one, but was amazing, if the way Niall and Zayn gush is an indication. Obviously the director had seen potential. 

Liam didn’t even know that Louis was interested in acting. 

 

The music is so loud that Liam can barely hear himself think. The three beers he'd been talked into probably aren't helping much. Out on the dance floor, Zayn and Harry are wrapped around Louis. They can't dance for shit, but the way they're lost in each other makes Liam think it doesn't really matter. 

Louis looks relaxed for the first time in ages though, so that’s nice to see.

"This was a grand idea!" Niall shouts. She's sat in his lap as usual, even though there are a number of open chairs. The flush of alcohol is bright on her cheeks and when she grins at Liam, he can't help smiling back. She pokes him in the cheek. 

"You're so fuckin' cute," she says, the alcohol thickening her accent enough that it takes Liam a second to parse what she's said. He doesn't catch the next part because the others stumble up to the table just then. 

"We're out of here." 

Harry's curls are sticking to her forehead, to her neck. There's a flush across her chest that Liam is sure isn't just the heat of the club. Next to her, Louis's curved into Zayn's side, her hands roaming up under his shirt. From this angle, Liam can see Zayn's fingers digging into her bare thigh. He's nosing into the space beneath her ear. Liam can see his lips move and the way Louis's hips shift a second later. Harry's watching it all with lidded eyes. Liam feels wicked just looking at them. 

Niall shifts in his lap and Liam can't help the way he digs his fingers into her hips to still her. She makes a noise and then laughs. She hollers, "Get out of here, before you get us all tossed out." Zayn throws a grin her way at that, and Louis tucks her face into his neck. 

Liam swears he sees a flash of teeth. 

"See she gets home?" It takes a minute for Liam to realize that Zayn's talking to him. All he can do is nod even as Niall protests she's perfectly capable of making her own way home. 

Before he realizes it, Zayn's got a hand curved around his neck, his mouth next to Liam's ear. "Don't do anything I wouldn't do, Li," Zayn tells him. He nips at Liam’s neck, quick and sharp, and then he's gone, pulling Harry and Louis away. Liam loses them in the crowd a second later. 

It's not until Niall tugs his hand away that Liam realizes he'd slapped it over the spot Zayn had bitten. She's staring at him, grinning. "Love bites are usually Louis's domain," she tells him. Her eyes are laughing, bright and eerily clear in the lights of the club. She runs a hand over the birthmark on his neck, adding, "But I can understand." 

Liam's fairly sure he looks like a fish at the moment, the way his mouth keeps opening and closing as he tries to figure out what to say. She takes pity on him after a moment, hopping off his lap with a, "Let's get out of here," and tugging on his hand to get him on his feet. 

They take a taxi, stopping at Niall's first. Before the cab comes to a stop, Niall says, "I'm not really tired. Come keep me company?" and Liam says yes. 

It's a typical flat, not too clean, not too dirty. There's a guitar in the corner of the living room that catches his eye and he immediately makes his way over to it. 

"You play?" Niall asks, head tilted, watching him.

Liam nods. "A bit. I'm better at piano though." He brushes a finger over the light-colored wood. She's worn and obviously well-loved. 

"Wanna show me what you got then?" Liam glances over to find Niall grinning at him, hand on her hip. Challenging. Liam laughs. 

"You have to promise not to laugh though." He picks up the guitar carefully. 

Niall waves that off, "I promise no such thing. Now play me something." She settles into the opposite corner of the sofa as Liam. For once, she's still, and Liam gets a little nervous. He strums a little, getting a feel for the instrument and warming up his fingers. He plays through half a dozen things, none of them complete, before he feels comfortable. 

He doesn't realize he's singing along softly until Niall joins in on the harmony. Glancing over, he finds himself staring at her mouth as she sings along. The last notes fade out and Liam blushes, looking away. "Sorry," he laughs nervously, fiddling with the strings again. "That's the only song I know completely and—"

Niall tugs the guitar from his startled hands, setting it carefully on the floor against the side table, and climbs into his lap. "I love Jason Mraz," she says. 

Then she kisses him. 

 

"You're not a natural blonde," Liam says dumbly. Niall gives him a look, then squeezes around his cock and Liam's mind shuts down momentarily.

They're sprawled across her bed, Liam flat on his back as she rocks up and down on him. It's like an out of body experience as he watches his fingers tighten on her hips, digging in. She's so very pale and he thinks how easy it would be to mark her. It's a surprise how much he suddenly wants to. 

He must say something because the flush along her cheeks and neck darkens, makes its way nearly down to her belly. Liam watches the shift of muscle and can't help splaying a hand right above her belly button. Niall's breath hitches; Liam can feel it. 

He slides his hand up, until it's resting over breast bone. She's so fucking _warm_. Liam keeps reaching up, fingers sliding into the hair at the nape of Niall's neck. It's loose for once, out of the ponytail that she's always wearing. "I like your hair down," he says quietly. Niall's eyes narrow. 

"What are you do—" 

Liam sits up abruptly, cutting off her question. Her mouth opens eagerly to his though, so he counts it a win. He answers anyway, when they break apart. He doesn't go very far though, pressing in for another soft kiss. "We didn't get much foreplay," 

"Foreplay's for sissies," Niall murmurs against his mouth. He bites her bottom lip and brings a hand up, brushing a thumb over a taut nipple. It makes her shake. Liam does it again.

"Fuck," she curses. Liam hums against her mouth. He tilts her back and circles his tongue around nipple. Her fingers dig into his shoulders. He uses his teeth and knows it's going to be a while before the nail indentions in his skin fade. 

A few minutes later, she's panting, squirming in his lap. It's doing great things for his dick, but Liam's determined to make her come first. Niall's so sensitive that Liam's wondering if he can make that happen just by playing with her tits. It's an intriguing thought.

One he's obviously not going to get to follow through on. 

"Fuck you, Liam Payne," Niall growls, and then she's reaching between them to get her fingers on herself. Liam gets there first, fingers around her wrist, and Niall actually whines. 

"You're so _impatient_ , Jesus," Liam mutters. 

"Orgasms," Niall responds. "I want them." She does kiss him again then, and he can't help laughing against her mouth. "I hate waking up," she adds. Her hand starts creeping back down and Liam huffs out a laugh, grabbing it. "You can show me all about foreplay then, 'kay?" 

Liam sits back a little. "Yeah?"

It earns him an eye roll, but Niall's smile is soft when she says, "Yeah." She tugs him back in for a quick kiss and rests her forehead against his. "Now get me off." Liam laughs again. 

Despite Niall's demand, Liam takes his time. It's been ages since he's had sex, but he loves it. Loves feeling someone respond to him, to his hands and his mouth. He goes back to playing with her nipples, tongue and teeth until she's cursing at him again. He pushes it until he can feel her tense, pulsing around him in retaliation, goading him. She bites the thick muscle at the curve of his neck and he drags his fingertips down her stomach. Niall's nothing but muscle, and Liam finds he really, really likes the play of it under his hand. 

"Liam—" There's an edge of desperation to his name this time. 

He presses his hand lower, thumb sliding through her folds. It's slick and hot, and Liam suddenly wishes he could have his mouth there, wants to taste her. In the morning, he decides. In the morning, he'll wake her up with his tongue and his fingers and they'll put this whole foreplay issue to rest then. 

Niall's making these tiny little noises and there's a fine tremble under his palm. Her hips are rocking against his, tiny little pulses that make him press back. He can't really do much from this position, but she's fluttering around his dick and _christ_ it's been a long time since he's felt anything other than his right hand. He circles his thumb harder around her clit, resting his head on her shoulder and watching where their bodies meet.

It takes him a second to realize that the noises Niall was making have turned into his name, mumbled over and over. Her entire body feels like it's going to snap. Liam drags his teeth over the sharp cut of her collarbone and she comes with a loud curse. 

Liam can feel her hot breath against this neck and he runs a hand softly over her back as aftershocks tremble through her. It's not long before she's sitting up. 

"Okay," she says. Her skin is even more flushed now and Liam can't help running his fingertips down her neck. She swallows, grabbing his hand a second later. She wraps her fingers around his other wrist, down at her waist, and brings it up too. With deliberation, she drags her tongue over the pad of his thumb, tasting herself. Liam's hips jerk.

And then he's flat on his back again, her knees tight against his sides. There's a spill of blonde hair all around him as she leans over. "Okay," she repeats, grin sharp. 

"My turn."

 

Niall is still asleep when Liam wakes the next morning. She's sprawled out, hair a tangled mess against her pillow. The sun's crawled its way across the room and it paints her pale body in warm yellow. There's a dark smudge along the line of one exposed hip, and Liam reaches out to touch it.

He was right, she does mark easily. 

There's a part of Liam that wants to get up, get out—sleeping with friends isn't something he does on a casual basis—but he's warm and comfortable. Niall's words from last night come back to him. 

He slips his hand under the edge of the covers, brushing his fingers over the soft smoothness of her inner thigh. She shifts, body reacting subconsciously to the touch, but doesn't wake. Liam leans over a little and drags his fingers back up. He thumbs over the bruise again, pressing at it a bit, then trails his fingers straight across to her other hip. The motion pulls at the sheet and she mumbles at that. 

Her brows, when Liam glances up, are furrowed. He palms her hip - the skin stretched tight over the bone under his hand - and brushes his thumb over the soft skin of her belly. 

"S'too early," she grumbles. But she curls towards him, moving in close until she's tucked along him. His dick twitches and he can't help laughing when she adds, "And it's way too early for that."

He smooths a hand up along the line of her spine, satisfied when she shivers a tiny bit. There's another grumpy noise but he also feels the soft catch of Niall's breath, the almost imperceptible movement of her hips, when he trails his fingers back down. She's small enough that Liam's hand nearly spans the entire width of her back when he splays his hand out there. 

She's just so _warm_. 

There's a soft dig of teeth over his Adam's apple. "Still too early," she huffs, but it's weaker than before. 

Niall goes easily when Liam presses her back onto the mattress again with the heel of his hand on her hip. They've lost all the covers and he watches her body react to the open air. His own is definitely interested now. 

"Well," he murmurs, leaning up on his elbow and looking down, "I believe I can change your mind on that."

"Oh yeah?" she says, the corners of her mouth tilting up. She tucks a hand under head, headless of how exposed she is and Liam likes the way she's comfortable with herself, the easy way her body moves. Liam can't help staring. It's different seeing this in the light of day. 

She makes a noise and Liam realizes his fingers are digging into the bruises on her hips. "Yes," he finally answers, clearing his throat. As he watches, the rise and fall of Niall's ribs speed up. 

"Well," she says in an echo of his words earlier. He thinks she's mocking him a little, in a good way, but her voice is a little rough and he's not the only one that has to clear his throat it seems. "Well," Niall repeats, "I'm giving you fifteen minutes and then I'm either taking matters into my own hands or going back to sleep." 

Liam's not one to pass up an opportunity. He presses a kiss to her shoulder, one to the curve of her jaw and another between her breasts before shifting down. The flush is back on her skin, darkening when he nips just under her belly button. It may have been a while since he's done this, but Liam's good at it.

Niall, in the end, seems to agree.

 

Liam's fairly certain that Niall hasn't said anything to the others about that night. Which, he can't quite decide how he feels about that. On one hand, he doesn't necessarily like being a dirty little secret, but on the other, if the way Zayn's been watching him this past week is any indication, he's sure at least one person knows. 

 

It's a couple weeks after the club - a couple weeks where Liam's noticed how much more relaxed Louis's been, how the tension in her shoulders is less and her digs at Liam lack the acerbic edge from before - when he and Harry are having one of their listening sessions and she turns into him a little and says, "So."

Liam raises his eyebrows, inquiring. She adds, "Niall tells me you're even better at cunnilingus than I am," and it's only by her grabbing his belt that Liam manages not to fall over.

He opens his mouth to say something, although he's not sure what or if he can actually form words at the moment, when Louis pipes up from the sofa where she's lying with her head on Zayn's lap. "Does Liam even know what cunnilingus means, Haz?"

It's possible Liam's head is going to explode. Zayn doesn't help.

"Of course, he knows what cunnilingus means. Don't you, Liam?"

"Seriously, you guys. Can you quit saying the word cunnilingus?" Everyone looks at the far corner of the coffee shop where Aiden's got his books spread out on the table. "It's making it really hard to study when you're talking about girl bits." He holds up his cup. "Also, I need a refill." 

Liam puts his head on the counter. His face feels like it's on fire.

Harry pats his back a moment later. In the background, he can hear Louis shouting girl parts in increasingly vulgar terms at Aiden, and he thinks that maybe that's the end of it. Then Harry says near his ear, in a quiet voice, "I'll have to test this theory myself at some point, you understand," and walks off.

Liam doesn't move for the next fifteen minutes. One, because he figures it's the best way not to draw attention back to himself, but also because of the really inconvenient erection that Harry's words caused. 

 

 

He's just finished circling an opening at the library when the bell over the door jingles. Niall's through first, Zayn right behind her.

Startled, he stuffs the paper under the counter with the syrup. He's not sure why he's hiding it, but no one ever looks there anyway. It doesn't matter, the two of them are too busy arguing to notice Liam's flushed face.

"—I told you Ashton’s just a mate. He doesn't think of me like that!" Niall's irritation is obvious, in her voice and in the way she slams her rucksack on the couch. She's wearing those stupid drop-crotch trousers that he knows Harry will complain about when she comes in later and a dark colored hoodie that Liam instantly recognizes. 

So that's where that went. Liam sighs. 

Zayn's having none of it apparently. " _Every_ guy thinks like that, you tit! I'm just trying to watch out for you!" It's the wrong thing to say. Niall punches Zayn in the stomach and stomps over to the counter while he's bent over, gasping for air. 

"Boys are stupid, Liam," she announces, daring him to contradict her. Liam just stands there, a wistful thought for the paper stuffed in between the jugs of syrup just under the counter. Then he notices something. 

"Your hair's down." 

It's obvious that's not what was Niall was expecting him to say. She reaches up and tugs the end of a strand that's slipped over her shoulder. 

"It looks nice," Liam says quietly. 

It does, too. A mix of the bright blonde she usually colors it with and the more honey tone of her regular hair color, all messily tousled in a way that completely suits her. Liam thinks about the way it fell down around him that night and hopes his face isn't turning red. 

The way Niall's eyes narrow means it probably is though. "My self-esteem isn't dependent on whether you think my hair looks nice or not, Liam James Payne—" He opens his mouth to protest but snaps it closed when she adds quietly, "but thank you."

"Now," she says a moment later, "I want the special. And two of those cream things." She points to a pastry in the display. "Please," she adds a second later, grinning at Liam. He smiles back. It's kind of impossible not to smile back at Niall, really. 

"And Zayn gets to buy his own," she says loudly enough to carry across the room, "because he's a twat."

Liam doesn't even admonish her because one, he's learned it's no use and two, Zayn's the only other person in the shop. Mid-morning Mondays are even slower than Thursday mid-afternoons, Liam's learned. 

Over Niall's shoulder, he can see Zayn flick two fingers at Niall's back. 

"Total twat," Niall scowls, as if she knows, and Liam gives her a third pastry. She lights up when he slides the plate over though. 

Ten minutes later, Zayn tries to steal a bite and Liam forgets all about the paper under the counter because he's too busy trying to keep Niall from stabbing him with a fork.

 

"What's this?" Harry asks. 

Liam shakes his head; he's trying to reconcile the till but he's pants at math. He realizes he's lost count and sighs, starting over. 

"What's what?' he responds. 

A paper lands on his money, a few notes fluttering to the floor. He sighs, mouth open to chastise Harry, when he realizes what she's put in front of him. It's the job postings paper he'd shoved under the counter a few days ago. 

"Oh, I'd forgotten about that." Liam frowns. That means he'd probably not put the caramel syrup back where it belongs either. Their bad habits are rubbing off on him. "Did I put the syrup back?" he asks, looking up.

Harry's frowning at him, and Liam's stomach twists. Harry never frowns at him. She smiles at him, watches him, teases him, but she never frowns at him. Liam doesn't like it at all.

He says her name quietly. "Haz?"

"Are you leaving?" The words are abrupt, tight. Liam shakes his head.

"What?"

She pokes at the paper in front of him. He can see a couple of bright red pen marks where he'd circled potential jobs. For some reason, his stomach sinks. "Harry—"

"We can stop," she interrupts. Harry's not looking _at_ him anymore; she's frowning down at the paper in front of him like it's the cause of all this. "We can leave you alone." She bites her bottom lip and Liam wants to thumb it, make her stop. "If you'll stay, we can stop— We'll give you space."

"No, that's not—" Liam stumbles over his words, not quite sure what he wants to say. The look on Harry's face is tearing him up though; he just wants to make it go away. Unfortunately, Harry doesn't give him time, just turns and walks through the door, disappearing into the kitchen, leaving Liam with his mouth hanging open as he tries to find the words. 

"Harry!" he calls out, but she doesn't answer him and when he looks down, the paper's just sitting there, taunting him. With a sigh, Liam shoves the money back into the till haphazardly and makes his way to the back. 

The scene is eerily similar. 

Only where Louis was all jerky motions and clattering pans, Harry's quiet and controlled, methodical in the way she washes the mixing bowls. She's taken her hair out of its top knot and with her chin tucked down; the mess of curls hides her profile from Liam. 

He's not quite sure what he came back here to do, so he just watches for a few moments, studying Harry and trying to figure out what to say. In the end, Liam makes his way over and leans a hip against the counter next to Harry. She doesn't say a word, doesn't stop the motion of her hands, but at least Liam can see her face now. There's an errant curl stuck to her cheek and without thinking, Liam reaches out. It's a futile effort, trying to tuck it behind her ear, but Liam tries anyway. 

And this is different, too. Louis is all sharp angles and touching when you're allowed to touch. Harry, on the other hand, immediately leans into the touch, eyes slipping half-closed. She exhales, and Liam shivers as her breath ghosts over his wrist. 

Harry turns her head, chin coming up as she finally looks at him. It's unsettling, how clear and green her eyes are, and it feels like she can see all the way through him. He doesn't look away though and whatever Harry sees in his face must satisfy her, because a second later the corners of her mouth turn up in a soft smile. Liam lets himself breathe.

Without thinking, he presses a quick kiss to Harry's mouth. Her lips are slightly rough, chapped, and Liam's thinking of the way she's constantly licking them. He's got his mouth open to apologize, but finds himself huffing out a small laugh at the look of total surprise on Harry's face. 

It makes him feel bold and he does it again, tugging at one of her curls when he pulls back the second time. Her eyes narrow, and Liam grins. He steps back, moving towards the front again, feeling better than he has all day. 

"You're not going anywhere, Liam Payne," Harry calls after him. Liam turns, pushing against the door with his back and smiles at her. 

"Depends on whether you lot can learn to put the caramel syrup back where it goes," he says. Her laughter follows him. 

 

It becomes a sort of game after that. When Harry's least expecting it, Liam will give her a kiss - a cheek, the tip of her nose, the corner of her mouth. It's barely there, quick enough that she doesn't have time to react. Each time it earns him a disgruntled noise and usually a retaliatory poke in his ribs. Liam can't lie though, he loves having an upper hand for once when it comes to Harry. 

At first he only does it when it's he and Harry, but it's soon enough that he forgets. 

 

Louis's called out sick and Harry's spent half the day on her mobile, texting, and then whining when Louis doesn't answer. Other than that, it's a typical Wednesday afternoon. Aiden and Matt are practically curled around each other on the opposite side of the shop while Niall's scratching out a rough draft for her a class assignment on the couch. Zayn's curled into the companion chair, sketching out the line of Niall's shoulder. He's trying to be discreet about it, because Niall has a tendency to yell at him for drawing her, but she's got her ear buds in and hasn't noticed yet. Liam's watching them fondly when Harry lets out a huge sigh. 

"What if she's dying?" Harry whines. When he glances over, it's to find her frowning down at the phone in her hand.

"She's not dying," Liam, Aiden, and Zayn all chorus together, and Harry transfers her frown to them instead. 

"She's not answering my texts though."

Liam reaches over, snatching up Harry's mobile. She immediately protests, reaching for it. "Lou's probably sleeping, okay?" Harry pokes him in the belly, then reaches for her phone. Liam raises it above his head, but Harry's nearly the same height, so Liam shuffles around her. 

"If she's ill—" he adds, twisting around the counter. Harry moves after him, following him around an empty table and making grabby hands, "—that's the best thing for her right now."

"Give me my mobile, Li," Harry grumbles at him across the space of the table that separates them. She looks pathetic, all sad eyes, the corners of her mouth turned down, and Liam's done even before he really got to start. 

He sighs. "Fine."

Harry's around the table, hands curling around the phone before he's even finished. She stays close though, half-leaning into his shoulder as she checks the phone for any new messages. There aren't any, of course.

"She's fine, Hazza," Liam tells her quietly. He slides an arm around her waist and presses a kiss to her temple. "I promise."

"How can you be sure?" The words are a bit muffled; Harry's curled into Liam now, her face tucked into his neck. Liam huffs. 

"Lou's too ornery, trust me. Besides," Liam digs his fingers into Harry's side, making her squirm, "she takes too much pleasure in verbally assaulting me to give it all up to a silly little cold." 

That makes Harry look up, frowning. "Hey, she likes you—" 

Without thinking, Liam kisses Harry straight on the mouth. It startles her enough that she stops talking, eyebrows shooting up. The shop is unnaturally quiet and Liam realizes what he's done. Harry's just staring at him, considering, even as Liam feels his face get hot. He's a little afraid to look around. 

Thankfully, the bell over the door rings, and Liam makes an escape back behind the counter. 

 

He's just turned the key to lock the back door when Harry's mobile buzzes. She fumbles it out of her coat pocket, her face lighting up for a split second before falling again. 

"Everything okay?" Liam starts to reach out, dropping his hand when she glances up. 

"Lou says she's contagious and I can't go home, says to shack at Zayn and Niall's." She doesn't look particularly happy, but Liam can't tell if it's just because Louis's really sick or because she can't go home. Knowing Harry, Liam thinks it's probably both. They're making their way toward the alley entrance when Harry opens her mouth to say something and then promptly closes it. 

Liam bumps her shoulder. "What is it?"

Harry worries at her lip. Liam does his best not to stare—it's getting harder not to as of late—and he misses the first half of what she's said. 

"—don't want to be a distraction."

He hums an agreement, like he understands, and stares down at his feet as they walk. The sounds from the street are louder now, and he's a bit embarrassed for not paying attention. Still, he's not sure he's heard right when Harry asks, "Could I stay at yours then?" 

His head snaps up. "Just tonight, of course," she adds, "since Niall's got her exam tomorrow and all?"

She's back to biting her lip again and Liam's got a bit of white noise buzzing through his head. Him and Harry alone in his flat is a terrible idea. 

"Sounds great," is what comes out of his mouth. It's fine. It'll be fine. They'll grab some takeaway and watch the telly. And everything will be _fine_. 

 

Harry's legs are long. 

Objectively, Liam's known this for a while; she wears enough short skirts at work to make this something of which he is well aware. Currently though, she's lounging on his sofa in a pair of his boxers, her legs sprawled along the length of the cushions, and, well. 

Harry's legs are _really_ long. 

Liam's sat in the far corner, resolutely staring at the television. It's a cooking show of some sort, because Harry's face had lit up when he was flicking through the channels. They've been watching for over an hour and Liam still has no idea what they're making. Mostly because Harry'd tucked her toes up under his thigh about five minutes in and he's been concentrating on not tensing up. Or staring. 

She shifts and Liam can see the pale flash of her skin out of the corner of his eye. With a quiet sigh, he forces himself to pay attention to lady mixing bright yellow batter on the telly. 

Under his thigh, Harry wiggles her toes. 

 

"Don't be ridiculous, Liam. Your bed is a small island, there's no reason we can't both sleep in it." 

Liam glances up to protest again — he doesn't mind sleeping on the couch for the night — but a pillow smacks him in the face and he sputters in shock, fumbling to grab it before it hits the floor. "Harry!"

She's on her knees at the end of his bed, sat back on her heels and laughing at him. Dimple out in full force, she giggles, "You should see your face, Li." 

He's speechless for a moment; she just looks so comfortable. Comfortable and _happy_. It makes warmth bloom in his chest. Something must show on his face because Harry tilts her head to the side a bit, smile softening as she watches him. With a soft huff, Liam tucks the pillow under his arm and walks over to the bed. 

"Harry. Oh, Harry," he murmurs. Tries out, "Hazza," next and can tell she's trying not to laugh, lips pressed together, delighted at the nickname. He puts a hand on her shoulder, the curve of her collarbone under his thumb. Shaking his head, he says, "Haz. Haz, you know I had _two_ older sisters, right?" 

She nods, eyes bright, and Liam adds, "I've seen the bad end of more pillow fights than you could imagine. I've grown hardened against such blatant misuses of power." It makes Harry snort, and Liam just shakes his head. He goes right in for the curve of her waist, fingers digging in to the spot he's seen Zayn go for more than once. Startled, Harry shrieks, swatting at Liam's hands and toppling sideways in an attempt to get away. Liam follows, relentless. No one ever believes him. 

"Unfair!" she yells, flailing. Liam manages to avoid an elbow to the face and keeps up his tickle attack. He can't help laughing as Harry hurls several unladylike curses at him. 

It doesn't take long for her to fight back though, and soon they're both sweaty and giggling. Liam manages to get a hold of her wrists — she's really good at slipping out of his fingers — and pins them to the bed beside her head. He grins, triumphant, only to find her watching him again, eyes wide. Her hair's a mess, curls stuck to her cheeks and her neck, a flush on her cheeks that just makes her green eyes even brighter, more startlingly clear. 

She's breathing hard from their tussle. Liam can see the tips of her swallow tattoos peeking out from the stretched out collar of the shirt he'd lent her. The tip of her tongue flicks out to wet her bottom lip, and maybe this wasn't the most brilliant idea Liam's ever had. He pulls back, slumping over on his side. 

Harry takes another couple of breaths as Liam watches. She rolls over onto her side after a moment, pushing up the bed until she's eye level with Liam. He doesn't say anything as they stare at each other. It should be awkward — this part is always awkward for Liam — but strangely enough, it's not. Harry breaks into a smile and Liam can't help but return it. They end up giggling and the warm curl of desire in Liam's stomach doesn't go away, but Liam finds he doesn't mind that. 

"You should smile more often, Liam Payne," Harry says, voice quiet. There's a curl that's fallen over her cheek, the tip brushing the corner of her mouth. He reaches over and tucks it back, thumb brushing the soft skin under her ear and watches Harry's eyelashes flutter. 

"Maybe I will," he murmurs. 

 

Harry, along with Liam’s favourite pair of trackies, is gone in the morning when Liam wakes. 

 

The next time Liam sees those trackies, he’s taking out the shop's rubbish. Zayn and Harry are in the back alley. He's about to say something when he notices that Zayn's got his hand down them and Harry's face is flushed when she tilts her head in his direction. Liam drops the bag and heads back inside immediately. 

Five minutes later Harry comes in through the back, cheeks still a bit red. She sends Liam a slow, cheeky smile, and Liam promptly fumbles the scone he'd been pulling from the display. Her dimples deepen and her laugh reverberates throughout the shop. It's cut off by the sound of the bell over the door. It's Zayn. Liam drops the scone again. 

"Fuck," he mumbles, and Harry laughs again. She slips by, brushing against him on the way to the toilet. He manages to hold onto the damn scone this time, but barely. When she comes back a few minutes later, it’s in the shortest skirt he's seen. Which is fine, Liam’s used to it, but every time she's near Zayn–and for some reason, she seems to be over there a lot–he can see the way Zayn slides his fingers the barest bit under the line of her hem. 

 

By the end of his shift, Liam's not sure whether he's relieved or not that Harry's decided to head over to Niall and Zayn's since Louis still won't let her come back to the flat. He wants to ask after his trackies, but Zayn's tugging her down the street before he can get the words out. The sound of their _good nights_ floating back to him. 

Liam tells himself that he's not wistful at all, that he doesn't miss the warmth of someone else in his bed as he falls asleep that night. 

 

It's a very familiar scene when Niall comes stomping through the doors of the coffee shop. This time however, it's Louis trailing in behind her. Neither of them looks very happy. 

"Nialler–"

"Don't start with me, Louis!" Niall snaps back. Liam's eyebrows go straight up. Niall's voice is sharp, a tone he's never heard from her before. For a second, there's the zing of satisfaction. Louis's not perfect if even laid-back Niall can get angry at her. He feels bad about it immediately, especially when Niall half-shouts, "I'm not one of your sisters!"

Since Niall's got her back to Louis, it's only Liam who sees the hurt flash over Louis's face before she shuts it away, expression going blank.

"Fine," is all she says. Then she's shoved through the swing door to behind the counters and off into the kitchen, leaving Niall and Liam to stare awkwardly at each other. 

Niall's shoulders drop almost immediately. With a sigh, she tugs at the brim of her snapback. She mutters a quiet, "Ugh," and Liam silently agrees. 

"It's nice to know it's not just me," Liam offers across the counter. It succeeds in making Niall huff out a short laugh. 

"I just–" She tugs on the cap again. "I just wish she'd trust me, yeah? Everyone acts like _I'm_ the baby, not Harry. Like I'm not able to take care of myself." 

She looks up at Liam and he wants to say something to reassure her, but he realizes in that moment he'd probably kill anyone that tried to hurt Niall. He's not quite sure when that happened. Maybe between that first night when she'd flopped down in his lap, a virtual stranger, like they'd been friends for years, or the night they'd spent rolling around in Niall's bed having the most fun sex he's probably ever had.

Truthfully, he's pretty certain it's just been every day of the last few months – the snapbacks, the constant whinging about Zayn's not-so-subtle sketching sessions, the extra desserts and the bright laughter, her fingers on the guitar that's never far from her. 

Something must show on Liam's face because Niall rolls her eyes, tugs off her snapback and tosses it at him. "You're all shite," she mumbles. There's no anger in it though, just a light blush making its way over her cheeks. Liam tugs the hat down on his head–it's against regulation, but oh well–and grins at her. A reluctant smile kips at the corner of her mouth. 

"She'll make it up to you," Liam offers. "You know she will." 

 

Liam is right, but he's not expecting to be right so soon. Nor to walk out of the kitchen an hour or so later and find the two of them sprawled along the sofa, snogging as if their lives depend on it. He stops abruptly enough that Harry bumps into his back with a soft oomph. 

"Well then," she says from behind him, resting her chin on his shoulder. Liam is very determined to ignore the warmth as he presses against him. It's a thing she's started doing lately, after spending that one night at his flat. Like Liam's her personal cushion now. Liam's ignoring it for now, hoping that if he ignores it long enough, he'll quit thinking how nice it is. 

"Aren't you going to say something?" Liam asks. He nudges his head against hers. He has little hope, but Harry _is_ senior employee. 

"I'm enjoying the show," is the reply he gets. "Louis does this thing with her tongue–" 

Niall's moan is very audible across the shop. 

"–there it is," Harry murmurs. Liam can feel his face starting to warm up. He's fairly certain that's Niall's hand creeping under Louis's jumper, and from the opposite corner of the shop, he can hear Aiden grumbling. Which, seeing as how just last week Liam practically had to spray him and Matt down with a water bottle like cats, is rich. There's seriously something in the air here.

With a sigh, Liam pulls away, ignoring Harry's disgruntled, "Heyyy," With reluctance he makes his way over to the sofa. 

"Okay, guys." Nothing.

Well, Niall's hand slides up higher under Louis's jumper, but neither of them make a move to stop. Or like they've even heard Liam at all. 

"C'mon." Liam is not above begging, it seems. " _Please_?"

Louis finally pulls away from Niall. Liam does his best not to notice the way Niall moves to follow, how wet and red both their mouths are. "Yes, Liam?"

She arches an eyebrow, like Liam's the one at fault. For a moment, he falters, but then presses on. 

"While I'm glad you've managed to, um, sort out your differences, you probably should move this–" he waves a hand at the two of them, "somewhere more, well, private."

"This?" Louis's face is the epitome of innocent confusion. Niall giggles into Louis's neck even as Louis adds, "This what, Liam?"

"You know what," Liam mumbles. He glances over his shoulder, hoping in vain for some assistance, but Harry's already made her way back into the kitchen. 

"Whatever do you mean?" There's a flutter of eyelashes this time and Liam's about to roll his eyes when there's a very real catch of breath as Niall does something from where's she's still got her face tucked into Louis's neck. Liam doesn't want to know. He _doesn't_.

"Louis," he says quietly. She goes still for a moment, face serious as she stares up at him. It doesn't last, of course. A second later, she reaches up and tweaks a nipple before he can react. He flinches, always a second too late, and watches as she moves off Niall's lap. Pulling her up after, Louis tugs her away. They're headed toward the ladies, Liam realizes. 

He opens his mouth to protest, but Louis hollers, "We'll take this elsewhere then!" Then over Niall's giggles, "Wouldn't want to offend Aiden's delicate sensibilities."

From behind him, Aiden shouts, "Thank you!" Louis salutes him, and Liam throws his hands up. Right before the door to the ladies toilet closes, Louis meets his eyes. She grins, sharp, and Liam's as lost as he always is with Louis. 

 

"Lou's definitely got the best technique." Beside him, Harry pouts. Liam tugs on a curl, reassuring her with a, "Yours are still the most moist, Haz."

Louis shouts, "Replay!" from across the room where she's bussing a table. Harry leers at Liam, waiting, while Niall cackles from her spot on the counter. Liam's given up on reprimanding her today. 

The weather's taken a turn for the colder and it's like the zing of it has set itself into the shop, electric in the air. There's a few customers spread throughout the room and they seem affected as well, voices and laughter loud as they talk and drink their coffees. 

With a sigh, Liam repeats, "Lou's definitely go the best technique, but your cupcakes are still the moistest, Haz."

Louis hips her way through the swing door, hands full of dishes, making an obnoxious buzzer noise. "Wrong, Payno!" Liam does his best not to blush at the nickname she's started calling him the last week. "I believe you said, and I quote, 'Yours are still the most moist, Haz'. No mention of cupcakes whatsoever. You lose." She sounds like it's the best thing ever. 

And maybe Liam may or may not have been accidentally losing at this game on purpose for the last week or so. Thankfully, Louis hasn't caught on yet. It's just that Liam much prefers her looking at him this way, blue eyes bright, smile wide and full of teeth. She looks _happy_.

"Who cares what they look like anyway?" Niall asks, breaking into Liam's thoughts. He can see her fingers inching toward the tray. He gives her a look and she grins, shameless, at him. Harry reaches over, picks up a cupcake and proceeds to dab at Niall's nose, leaving a dollop of the crème frosting on the tip as she pulls back. Niall laughs, leaning forward, and Harry goes up on her toes to lick it off. 

"Ugh, you guys are disgusting," Louis says. The soft look on her face belies the words though. It drops when he notices Liam watching her. Her eyes narrow. "You," she tells Liam, "lost _again_." Arching a brow, she says, "One would think you enjoy getting your nipples pinched." 

"Oh, he does," Niall pipes up, and Liam can feel his face go bright red. "He also likes it when—"

" _NIALL_." 

He almost feels bad when she falls off the counter, laughing so hard, but that feeling dissipates immediately when Louis, who's backing through the doors to the kitchen, hands still full, adds, "Oh, please. Like she hasn't described that whole night in detail to all of us." 

Liam hides his face in his hands, praying for a hole to open up. Niall's still cackling in the background. Harry presses a quick kiss to the back of his hand and murmurs, "It's a lovely bedtime story, trust me." 

Liam can't look anyone in the eye for the rest of the day.

 

The weather's absolute shit, pissing down a mixture of rain and snow that accumulates as slush along the street and pavement. Liam's had a grand total of three customers since they've opened; even Matt and Aiden haven't ventured in. 

Harry's supposed to be joining him soon and he's contemplating calling her, telling her not to bother as he'll more than likely close up early. It's just supposed to get colder and shittier. He's got his mobile in hand when the bell above the door jangles.

"Lou?" He's about to ask what she's doing here, but she glances up at him and the question dies in his throat. The hair that's poking out of her beanie is wet, sticking to the curve of her cheekbones and along her neck. The tan of summer has long faded and the scoop neck maroon shirt she's wearing emphasizes the delicate line of her collarbones as she shrugs off her coat. Liam's tongue feels giant in his mouth. 

He doesn't say anything until after Louis's got her apron on, wrapping the ties around waist and tying it off in front. "I thought Harry–"

"She's got an essay due tomorrow," Louis breaks in, tapping in her code for the register. "And she's a bit shit in this kind of weather, to be honest." She stops counting the till and glances over. "All right with that, Payno?"

Liam realizes he's staring at her collarbones again. He jerks his chin up and down in some approximation of a nod, blushing when he finally looks up to meet her eyes. There's amusement there, and his face heats up even more when she murmurs, "You're such an awkward duck, Liam Payne."

"Heyyy," he responds, doing a terrible impression of Harry. It's enough to make Louis laugh. A sound that brings a grin to Liam’s own face. 

Louis reaches over and Liam's quick this time, fingers wrapping around her wrist. It's still delicate, the bones fine underneath his hand. The look on Louis's face this time though is just disgruntled since her other hand is full of cash. Liam grins wider. 

"Ugh," she grumbles. "Make yourself useful, go do the dry good inventory. Slacker," she adds belatedly. Like Liam's sat here for the last few hours doing nothing. Which, not entirely inaccurate, but still.

He reaches out to pinch her waist, feels triumphant when she squeaks and jumps sideways. "You're not the boss of me, Tommo." 

Louis's obviously about to object, and loudly, when some poor soul drips their way in through the door. Instead, Louis kicks at his ankle, smiles widely at their customer, and calls out, "Welcome to Cowell's!"

With a grin, Liam heads to the back. This day might turn out not so bad after all. 

 

_Do you ever wonder if the stars shine out for you?_

Liam's not paying attention, letting his voice mix in with the CD Harry'd left in the kitchen player. Ed's a friend of hers, a local playing in the pubs around town. It's not generally Liam's thing, but both he and Niall are hooked now. 

_Is it that it's over or do birds still sing for you?_

Liam's a bit in awe of Ed's way with words, inspired to start putting some of his own thoughts down in a small moleskin he recently purchased. It's taken no time at all, really, pages filled with words and pieces of melody that come to mind. He misses the run-down piano back in Wolverhampton, but he's made do. Maybe Niall will help him out, her guitar skills are thousand times better than his. He'll ask her soon. Maybe. 

_Float down like autumn leaves and hush now_

"I didn't know you could sing." 

Startled at the sound of Louis's voice, Liam twists around, the sack of flour he was putting up on the top shelf slipping out of his fingers. It doesn't hurt when it bounces off the top of his head.

It does, however, explode. 

Both of them still, staring at each other in shock, as the fine, white powder floats about the store room. Liam can feel it everywhere; even his vision is tinged in white as he blinks it off his eyelashes. The silence of the moment is broken when Louis lets out a peal of laughter. A moment later, she's doubled over, laughing so hard she can barely breathe as Liam stands there, disgruntled. 

She stands, taking a deep breath, only to point at him, wheeze out, "Y-y-your faaaaaaaaace," and then begin giggling again. Liam huffs. On the ground is the bottom half of the busted sack. There's still a bit of flour in it so Liam reaches down to pick it up. He contemplates it for a moment, and then glances back up. 

Louis's eyes narrow when she notices. Pointing a finger at him, she says, "Liam Payne, you would not dare."

And he agrees with her, he generally wouldn't. But he kind of likes the way Louis's eyes widen when he takes a step forward. He likes the shock there, that _Liam_ would do this. He likes the look that morphs from that, a bit of wicked glee that he's fallen this far. He grins. 

Louis takes off with a squawk of outrage and Liam gives chase. 

 

He's just finished buttoning his coat when he looks up to find Louis watching him. The dark of her shirt is dusted pale with flour and Liam would feel bad except for the fact that she'd managed to somehow dump some down the back of his shirt in their earlier free-for-all. 

There's a bit of flour that she'd obviously missed in her clean-up, a smudge at the base of her throat, in the curve of her clavicle. 

"You've got–" Liam sets his hand on her shoulder, using his thumb to brush it away. Her skin is warm under his palm and he thumbs the spot again, feels it when her breath hitches the tiniest bit. He jerks his hand away, mumbling, "Sorry, you had some– There was." He finally snaps his mouth closed on, "Flour." 

When he glances up, it's to find Louis looking like she's trying not to laugh at him. Again. There's a flood of warmth in his chest. They've just had a _really_ good day, just the two of them, the first that Liam can remember since he's started, and he's just so stupidly happy that Louis's finally letting him in. So of course, he has to go and ruin it by going in for a hug. 

He knows it's the wrong thing to do when Louis immediately goes stiff. Fumbling back, he's got his mouth open to apologize when Louis snaps, "Don't forget to lock up." She's gone in a whirl of freezing air and a slammed door a moment later. 

 

It's not the first time Zayn's asked to sketch him. There's a number of pages in his sketchpad dedicated to everyone in the shop, despite Niall's constant grumbling about it. Liam's favourite, him and Harry sharing ear buds and grinning at each other, is currently hanging on the fridge in his flat. It makes him smile every morning when he's grabbing the milk for his cereal.

This is the first time, however, that he's asked Liam to pose outside of the shop. 

Liam's a bit nervous as they make their way toward Niall and Zayn's place. Freezing wind slaps him in the face, and he tucks his nose into the upturned collar of his jacket and walks faster.

The flat's the same as Liam remembers, Niall's guitar settled in the corner. Speaking of–

 

"Where's Niall?" She's usually done with courses way before now and he's not seen her at all today. Also, he's a bit nervous, and she always makes him feel more at ease.

"Dunno," Zayn mumbles around the cigarette he's tucked into the corner of his mouth. "She's with Harry and Lou, I think. Girl's night or something."

Their flat is warm, really warm in contrast to outside, and Liam's starting to sweat a little. Zayn's already shrugged out of his leather jacket, wandering into the kitchen in red Henley and black jeans he'd been wearing underneath. There's the sound of a window being cracked and the flick of the lighter, and then Zayn's, "Make yourself comfortable, Li!" follows shortly.

By the time Zayn's finished his cigarette, Liam's taken off his jacket and made three rounds around the living room before taking a seat on the sofa. He's not sure why he's so nervous.

A beer bottle appears in front of his face and Liam startles. Glancing up, he sees Zayn's small smile and can't help laughing at himself. It makes Zayn's smile widen.

"Sorry," Liam mumbles. "Dunno why I'm acting like a twit." 

Despite that one conversation, which seems like ages ago to Liam, Zayn's never made a move on Liam. It doesn't mean he won't smirk when Liam catches him with Harry in the alley or when he and Niall stumble into the coffee shop, breathless and faces a little too red from just the cold. 

Actually, Liam suddenly realizes, Zayn's gone out of his way to give him space for the most part. He can't decide whether that makes him happy or not, to be honest. 

Shaking his head to clear out those thoughts, Liam reaches out to grab the proffered beer. "So," he says, as Zayn settles on the edge of the chair across from Liam, "what do you need me to do?"

"For now, like, just talk to me," is the response. Pulling out his sketchpad, Zayn glances over at Liam with another quick grin. "I want to get some stuff that's more relaxed, yeah?" He flips to a new page. "I've got tons of the girls, need something more masculine to round it out." 

He can feel his face flush a bit at that, so he takes a drink to cover it up. Shifting, he finally lets himself slump against the back of the sofa. Zayn said to just talk, but he can't find any words. The silence doesn't seem to bother Zayn as his hand moves across the paper, occasionally glancing up. Liam drinks his beer as they sit there and eventually the sound of Zayn's pencil across paper lulls him into a light doze. 

The bottle being pulled out of his hand startles him and he jerks, eyes coming up to meet Zayn's from where's he's leaning over him. 

"S'just me," Zayn murmurs as he tugs the empty bottle away. Liam's not quite sure when he finished it, but he lets Zayn set it on the table beside the sofa. He's close enough that Liam can feel the heat coming off of him, the soft hint of smoke from the cigarettes he smokes. 

"Sorry," he mumbles, ducking his chin down. "Didn't mean to fall asleep on you." 

Zayn's voice is quiet when he answers. "No big deal. Needed a break anyway." 

He's not moved and Liam can see the hint of ink where the top few buttons of his shirt are undone. It reminds him of the way the tips of Harry's swallow tattoos peek out when she's wearing a loose collar. Liam's starting to think he's got a thing about collarbones and tattoos. 

"Hungry?" Zayn asks, finally shifting back and moving away. Liam nods. 

"Definitely," he croaks out. "Hungry, yes."

 

It's nearly midnight, leftover crusts from their frozen pizza dinner scattered across the coffee table along with a few more empty beer bottles. The last few hours have been fun, arguing the merits of Batman versus the Green Lantern, Justin Timberlake versus Frank Ocean. Liam's made himself comfortable, sprawled along the length of the sofa while Zayn sketches away. 

"What's wrong?" They'd just been laughing over the story of how Zayn'd met Niall, but now Zayn's frowning as he looks at Liam. He glances down, brushing at his shirt. "Have I got crumbs on me?"

"You should lose the shirt," Zayn says instead. 

Liam glances back up, eyes wide, and Zayn laughs at him. He gets an eye roll. "C'mon, Li, it's a study in masculinity, and we all know you've nothing to be ashamed of." He waves at Liam, motioning him to get a move on. He'd switched over to charcoal an hour or so back and now his fingers are smeared dark with the dust. With a sigh, Liam leans forward and tugs his shirt over his head. 

For a moment, he's unsure what to do with it and curls his fingers around the material, pressing it against his stomach. Then Zayn says, tone matter-of-fact, "Just leave it on the floor." 

He's been doing that off and on throughout their conversations, asking Liam to shift an arm, move a leg this way or that. Tilt his chin down or look across the room at something, in a no-nonsense, direct voice. Taking the choice out of Liam's hands. Liam tries not to think about how much he likes that as he puts the shirt on the floor.

The flat goes quiet again as Zayn sketches. 

"Scoot down a little further," Zayn instructs quietly, so Liam does. It makes his stomach muscles contract and Liam catches the way Zayn flicks his tongue out, wetting his bottom lip, the flicker of those stupidly long eyelashes as he glances up and back to his paper. 

"Thumb open your flies."

Liam does so after a moment's hesitation, goes to move his hand when Zayn says sharply, "Leave it." Then, "Tuck your— Under—" Liam slips his thumb under the edge of his pants, tugs a bit until he can feel the coarse hair under his thumb. 

"Yeah," Zayn murmurs. 

He continues sketching, but Liam can see the way Zayn swallows every time he glances over at the sofa.

 

It's another week before Zayn asks for another sketching session. A week full of strange tension, of Zayn touching all the girls more than usual. He's not ignored Liam, but he's not gone out of his way to interact. On more than one occasion, Liam's caught Louis watching the two of them.

Still, Liam doesn't hesitate when Zayn asks him back to the flat.

 

Liam's not quite sure how he ended up here, though. The sheet is cool against his overheated skin, slipping low along the line of his hips. Zayn's a heated weight in his lap, thighs pressed outside his own. And Liam's kissed a boy before, albeit not many, but never one with a beard. Zayn's scruff is rough against his skin, but his mouth is soft. There's a hand curled around the back of Liam's neck and he knows there'll be charcoal on his skin later. The thought makes his dick twitch hard enough that Zayn pulls backs.

"Fuck, your mouth," he breathes. Glances down, he drags a hand down Liam's abs until his fingers brush the edge of the sheet that's barely managing to cover Liam's erection. "Your _cock_ ," he murmurs in delight, and Liam would be more embarrassed but he's too turned on at the moment to care.

Liam whines and Zayn laughs. "You're so easy, Liam Payne." 

He slips the tips of his fingers under the sheet, barely brushing the head of Liam's dick. He tries to rut up, to get more friction but Zayn just laughs again, squeezing his thighs and pressing his hips down. It makes Liam whine again. "So easy," Zayn says again. "I'd have made a move sooner if I'd have known this."

Disgruntled, Liam leans forward to capture Zayn's mouth again. The distraction works, Zayn leaning into the kiss, tongue slick as it slides against Liam's. He sets his teeth against Liam's bottom lip, the fingers at the back of Liam's neck digging in. 

Up until now, Liam's kept his arms down, hands on the sheets beside him at Zayn's earlier orders. But he's tired of it, of not touching while Zayn's free to touch as he wants. He gets his hands around Zayn's hips, fingers sliding under the shirt he's still wearing and digging into the muscles of Zayn's back. 

It makes Zayn jerk, press closer into Liam. Zayn's hard in his jeans and they both moan when their cocks slide against each other. Liam breaks away, muttering, "You're wearing too many clothes." 

Zayn seems to agree because a second later, he's tossing his shirt across the room, then pressing back into Liam, seeking out his mouth again. His skin is hot under Liam's hands; he's not quite sure how much longer he's going to last to be honest. He's so hard it hurts, the rough rub of Zayn's jeans and the sheet against him a delicious distraction.

"Fuck. _Fuck_."

He's not the only one suffering and a second later, Zayn is fumbling with the hand not curled around Liam's neck, trying to unbutton his jeans and get his zipper down. He curses a few more times, finally succeeding, letting out a hiss as he gets a hand on himself. Liam glances down. 

He's cut, his cock long and slender. Like the rest of him, Liam notes. He thinks about tasting him, but he knows they're both too far gone for that right now. Liam whines instead, hips jerking up. It makes Zayn smirk, wanking himself a couple of times. He takes pity of Liam then, leaning in to nip at Liam's mouth again even as he pushes the sheet lower and taking them both in his hand. 

Liam digs his fingertips under Zayn's jeans, digging in as Zayn's hand jerks the both of them off. Slick from precome, thumb sliding over the slit of Liam's cock and that's all it takes. Liam buries his face in the curve of Zayn's shoulder as he comes, teeth digging in as he almost shouts. It sets Zayn off and he's muttering, "Fuck, fuckfuckfuck," over and over as he comes. 

They sit there after, breathing loud in the room. Finally Liam can't help it. "Well then," he murmurs. "I hope you don't wanna sketch that." 

Zayn cracks up and slides off his lap, on the bed beside him. Liam glances over, can't help grinning at the sight at of Zayn, flushed and giggling, with smile lines at the corner of his eyes. 

 

Liam wakes, momentarily thrown by the light coming into the room at the wrong angle. He turns his head and to his right, Zayn's there, dead to the world and drooling on his pillow. Liam can't help smiling before noticing that there's a pale, pale leg thrown over his. He glances over to find that Niall's curled against his other side. She's wearing nothing but Liam's discarded pants and somehow he knows that's just one more piece of clothing he'll not see again. She mumbles in her sleep, shifting into him a little bit more. 

It's overly warm, stuck between the two of them, but Liam finds he doesn't mind it. He falls back asleep instead.

 

It kind of becomes a thing after that. Once a week or so, Zayn will drag him back to the flat, sketch him for a bit, and then Liam ends up naked, waking the next morning too warm. Sometimes with just Zayn, other times with Niall on his other side. 

He's not quite sure what's going on, but he likes the way Zayn's hand will rest on the back of his neck when they're sat on the sofa at the shop. The way Niall strums at her guitar, legs slung over the both of them while Harry whines because she's not part of the cuddle. He likes the way Zayn's tongue presses against the back of his teeth when he laughs as Harry works her way onto Niall's lap anyway, regardless of the guitar and Niall's protests. 

 

"What's the craic, Leemo?" 

Niall doesn't wait for the answer, brushing past him into the flat. She's got her guitar in one hand, a six-pack of beer in the other. He's got his mouth open to answer when Zayn shuffles in behind her. He's got a brown paper sack that smells like heaven in one arm and a second six-pack dangling from his other hand. 

"Thought we'd come see if you were hungry, mate," Zayn says in lieu of hello, the quick brush of a kiss that hits more the corner of Liam's mouth than his lips. It's something he's seen Zayn often do to Niall and Harry, occasionally to Louis when she lets him, but it's the first time for Liam. 

He glances over at Niall, but she's busy taking her guitar out of its case. "I could eat," he finally says. 

 

So they do, fish and chips that make Liam's fingers slippery. He laughs when Zayn tries to steal from Niall's portion, getting a smart slap for his efforts. After a bit, they sprawl across Liam's old broken-down sofa. Niall's tucked against one arm, guitar back in her hands, playing random chords. 

Liam thinks about his notebook again. 

He's about to say something when Zayn tugs him back, an arm around his neck and a hand pressing against his chest. Liam goes, resting half on Zayn, half against the back of the sofa. He's warm; he smells like the chips they've just finished, but underneath there's the familiar scent of cigarettes that Liam associates with Zayn. Liam relaxes and can't help the buzz that runs through him at Zayn's happy little exhale when he does. 

They sit there, the three of them, drinking their beers. Niall plays and plays, eventually talking the two of them into singing with her. It's easy, lovely, and Liam's more content that he thought he'd ever really be. 

 

When Niall finally stops playing, when she sets her guitar down and crawls over to settle on top of Liam–still such a slight weight–it's easy then too. Easy to open to her wide, generous mouth. To suck on her tongue and tangle his hands in her hair. It's easy to tilt his head, to let Zayn's teeth drag over his neck. 

It's easiest to let the two of them drag him to his own bed. 

And in the morning when he wakes to the sun coming into the room at the right angle, he's still overwarm but just as happy to fall back asleep. 

 

"Are we out of caramel syrup?" 

No one answers Liam. The shop is quiet, only a handful of customers scattered about the tables. Mostly students, like Niall and Zayn, both of whom are out at classes still. 

Liam digs under the counter again just to be sure, but there's not another bottle. Grumbling, he checks the reorder sheet. It's conspicuously blank. "What's the point of having this list if no one is going to use it?" he mutters. 

"To annoy you, obviously." 

Liam jumps at Louis's voice. She's got an eyebrow arched, imperious. There's a curve to the corner of her mouth though, and Liam knows she's laughing at him. She bares her teeth in a smile, adding, "Is it working?"

He's about to ask where Harry's at–they're about to run out of the iced brownies and somehow or another both he and Louis always manage to make them too dry–when a curly head pops through the doors from the kitchen. Her cheeks are flushed and can see a small bruise just under the dip of her collarbone when her shirt slips from her shoulder. 

Zayn's out of classes then. 

Two seconds later, there's the jingle of the bell over the door and Liam catches a glimpse of dark hair and a tell-tale leather jacket. He shivers as the gust of cold air reaches him. 

"We need to use the list," he snaps. Louis's eyes narrow at his tone. "Or else we end up without one of our most popular items. How are we supposed to run things correctly if we don't even have the right syrup?"

Tilting her head, Louis just stares at him. She's not the only one, he can feel Harry's worried gaze, can sense Zayn's curiosity from the other side of the room. Liam's not even sure why he's pushing this, why he's so upset. A sharp pain in his chest snaps him out of his thoughts. Before he can react, Louis's twisting his other nipple. 

"Ow!!" He slaps his hands over his chest, too late. "Louis!"

"You're being an arse, stop it." She raises a hand and Liam jerks back, blushing as she tugs her beanie down further on her head. She smirks, adding, "And if you'd bothered to check, I ordered the last list two days ago. Your precious syrup is in the stock room."

He hadn't even thought to look there. Liam feels like an ass. "Lou–"

"You need to relax, Payno," Louis tells him. The look on her face shifts, turns pensive. "Maybe Zayn should take _you_ out to the alley," she adds and Liam chokes. "It always relaxes Harry." Over Louis's shoulder, Harry grins, dimples instant and deep, and flashes him two thumbs up. 

"Harry's _always_ relaxed!" Liam manages to get out. His face feels like it's in flames. Louis smiles, slow, and arches a brow again. 

Liam flees to the back. 

 

"You're being a whiny twat for no reason!" 

Liam looked up from where he was making change at the register, smiling at the customer in front of him, thanking him before glancing across the shop. Zayn and Harry are stood near the exit, Zayn's backpack slung over one shoulder. His leather jacket is zipped up, a bright red scarf wrapped around his neck. Liam glances at the watch on his wrist; it's time for Zayn's afternoon lecture. 

Harry's hands are curled into the pockets of Zayn's jacket, obviously reluctant to let him go. 

Zayn glances over, his eyes narrowing when he finds Liam staring at them. Before Liam can even open his mouth, Zayn's got a hand around Harry's wrist, dragging her over to the counter. 

"I can't deal with this, mate." He forces Harry's hands flat on the marble top. "She's yours to babysit." Harry opens her mouth, obviously about to object, but Zayn speaks over her, "Welcome to the hols, Liam. She's all yours." Then he's gone, the bell over the door marking his retreat. 

Liam looks over at Harry. Even her curls look sad. With a sigh, he taps a finger on the back of her hand. "You can crash at mine, 'kay Haz?"

She comes back around the counter, giving him a loud, messy kiss on the cheek before heading into the kitchen. There's another customer waiting and Liam ignores the wide smile that's directed at him, ignore the way his own face is most likely flushed bright red. 

"Welcome to Cowell's Coffee Shop. How can I help you?"

 

"What was that all about earlier?" 

They're sat on Liam's sofa, Harry's toes pushed under Liam's thigh again. Liam may or may not be fascinated by the very methodical way Harry's eating her orange, each movement precise, deliberate. She presses a piece against her bottom lip, biting down and then sucking the juices out before popping the remainder into her mouth. 

Harry eats another piece of orange and Liam silently curses Zayn. He and Niall are probably having a lovely night right now, not sexually frustrated at all. Not for the first time, Liam wonders why he let himself get involved with any of them. 

His dick twitches as Harry sucks some juice off her thumb, watching as her mouth moves. It's a few seconds before he realizes she's answering his question. 

"–always takes extra work this time of year. Wanting to do more for the girls, right?" Liam nods. He knows Louis loves her younger sisters to bits. "But she's taken shifts at the candy store this time _and_ gift wrap for Macy’s. She's never home and I–" Harry bites her lip. "I just–"

"Don't like being alone," Liam offers in the ensuing silent space. 

Harry nods, eyes on her lap where she's fiddling with the remaining half of her orange. "Zayn can only handle so much of me before he starts losing it." There's a bit of guilt in the downturn of her mouth. "And they're both studying for finals, which doesn't help." 

She looks up at him, chin still lowered, and gives him a small smile. Liam wants to hug her so badly right then, wants to curl up around her. It hits him with a sudden clarity then, how Niall and Louis are constantly doing exactly that, that he's not the only one. 

He's not sure what's showing on her face, but Harry's smile widens and she says, "But we've got you this year so Zayn won't kill me and I get to hang at Chez Payne. Everyone wins!" Liam lets out a laugh, shaking his head. 

"Not too exciting, sorry to say."

"I don't know," Harry responds quietly, peeling another section off her orange. "I like it." She offers him the piece, dimples on full display. "Orange?" 

 

Liam jerks awake, aware of two things: one) the sofa was not really meant for two people and two) he's so hard it hurts a little. He's fairly sure that the first thing is the reason for the second thing.

He shifts the tiniest bit, trying to figure out a way to slide out from under Harry without waking her up and embarrassing himself in the process when Harry mumbles, "Fucking finally." Her voice is low, raspy with sleep. Liam's cock likes it a lot. It also likes it when she slides a hand into his joggers and wraps her hand around it. 

Surprised, his hips buck hard enough that the two of them nearly up-end onto the floor. Liam flails an arm out, fingers digging into the back cushions. Harry's laughter rings out in the dark room, her breath ghosting over Liam's neck. It makes him shiver. 

"Harry, what–" A particular twist of her wrist has Liam digging his teeth into his bottom lip to keep from shouting. He finally manages to pant out, "Haz. What are you doing?"

"Should think that's fairly obvious," is the answer. Liam can hear the grin in her voice. And he wants to reply back, he _does_ , but she's doing that twist thing again and Liam can feel his orgasm, that low, twist of heat, and doesn't really have the breath to do so. 

He gets out, "Haz–" but then Harry's teeth find the curve of his jaw and he comes so hard, everything whites out for a moment. 

 

When Liam can focus on anything other than the harsh sounds of his own breathing, it's to Harry's, "You should eat more fruit, Li," and the sound of what he's assuming is her licking her fingers. He might whimper a bit, when his dick does its best effort to respond to that. Other than that, he feels boneless. Fuzzy and lightweight. Exhausted. 

"Go back to sleep, love," Harry murmurs. He makes a token protest – they need to talk about this, right? At the very least he should reciprocate. Harry laughs, pressing a kiss to the same spot she'd bitten earlier. "In the morning," she says against his skin and a minute or so later, he's asleep again. 

 

He waits for the panic to set in the next morning, but it doesn't come. All he feels is satisfied, Harry a solid warmth half atop him, with her curls pressed against his cheek and her legs intertwined with his. 

"Not regretting it then?" Liam must be too slow to answer because Harry's shifting, settling fully on top of him. She rests her chin on her hands on his chest, green eyes blinking slowly at him. She's got sleep at the corner of her eyes and the mascara on her left eye is smudged. "Liam?"

Liam blushes. "Regret lasting about two seconds, I think. That's a bit mortifying, to be honest."

It makes Harry laugh, one of those short bursts that always has her slapping a hand over her mouth, like it was a surprise even to her. It's his favorite Harry laugh, and even Harry's morning breath can't deter Liam's smile. He can see her feet, kicking in the air at the end of the sofa. Her feet are ridiculously long. 

When he points it out, she growls, digging her teeth into his chest. He yelps and she laughs again, rolling off him in a splay of long limbs.

She disappears out of his sight and after a moment, he can hear the sound of running water. He's settled into a light doze when something hits him in the chest. Opening his eyes, he sees a bottle of toothpaste, and Harry peering over the back of the sofa, curls spilling around her face. 

"You should get up now," she tells him. He reaches up to pull on a curl. It bounces back immediately. 

"Why?"

She grins, the edges a little sharp, and for a moment, Liam's reminded of Louis. And then Harry adds, "I think I'd like to call in that cunnilingus comparison now," and Liam chokes. 

"Not really sure I can perform under pressure," he manages to say and Harry laughs. 

Harry pushes off the back of the sofa, voice delighted, "I'm sure you'll try your hardest." A pair of red, silky knickers land on his chest a second later and Harry's voice comes again, from the direction of what Liam assumes is his room, "And I have faith in you."

 

Liam learns that Harry's voice goes low, goes even raspier, when she comes. He learns that his name sounds _amazing_ on her tongue. That she likes the way his fingers press into her skin, just this side of too hard, judging by the noise she makes when he does. 

He also learns the way water weights her curls down and the way she hums, not even aware of it, in the shower as they scramble madly to get ready for work. 

 

The sound of giggling catches Liam’s attention, and he looks up. Across the shop Niall and Harry are curled around each other. Harry's either whispering something into Niall's ear or kissing her cheek; he can never tell the difference to be honest. Niall's eyes dart over to him and he can see the sparkle in them even from this far away. 

She smirks, tilting her head further into Harry. Liam can feel his face heating up. 

He turns away, only to nearly run into Louis. She's just standing there, staring at him. One eyebrow lifts and Liam can't help swallowing hard. He opens his mouth, not sure what he's going to say - _Sorry, but not really sorry, for sleeping with your girlfriend?_ And really, can any stones be thrown here? What with how they're all still sleeping with each other. Only now Liam's slept with everyone except—

Louis's eyes narrow the slightest bit, like she knows what he's thinking, and Liam can feel his face get even hotter. 

The bell over the door rings and Liam's never felt so much relief in his life. He turns to deal with that–Louis huffs behind him–but it's only Zayn, who's immediately called over to the sofa by Harry. She drags him down into their little huddle. Liam can't help running a hand over his face. At his back, Louis laughs and disappears into the kitchen. 

More giggles explode from the sofa and Liam despairs of ever not being red in the face again. 

 

It happens on and off, when Louis's got too many hours elsewhere and Zayn gets tired of the clinginess. Sometimes, Harry will just come over and crash, limbs everywhere. Liam won't move her if she falls asleep on the couch, but she's always in his bed the next morning, bright and warm, curled around him. 

 

Liam looks up from the clipboard where he's doing inventory on the cupcake display at the crash from the kitchen, followed by Louis's muffled curses. His, "Everything okay, Lou?" gets a "Fine, it's fine," in return. 

It still makes him pause. Louis's looked exhausted all evening, the skin beneath her eyes thin and fragile-looking. Liam hasn't said anything because he likes his head where it's at. But still. 

When he pushes through the doors to the kitchen, it's to find Louis's back to him. She's wearing a black and white jumper, overly large enough that it makes her look even smaller than usual. Her skinny jeans are cuffed and rolled, ankle bones peeking out, and it makes Liam shake his head. Even in the winter, Lou's dedication to no socks is still strong. 

She's putting one of the mixing bowls up, one of the giant ones that go up on the top shelf, when she stumbles. Liam's got a hand at her waist before he can even blink. Thankfully, the bowl stays where it's supposed to go. 

Liam expects Louis to snap at him, but it's a testament to how tired she must be when all he gets is a quiet, weary, "Thanks," instead. She turns after a moment, and Liam only realizes he hasn't dropped his hand when he feels the soft knit of her jumper slide under his palm. They stand there in silence until finally Liam can't take it anymore. 

"Lou?" 

He's expecting her to pull back, to give him that look she always does, the one that feels like she can see right through him. It startles him then, when she just sighs and rests her head against his shoulder without saying a word. It's quiet, their breaths are the only sound in the room and Liam can feel the heat of Louis's breath through his shirt. It feels like they're both waiting for something, only Liam's not sure what. 

After a moment Liam moves his hand, sliding it around to settle on her back. When she doesn't protest, he does the same with the other until she's settled in the curve of his arms. It must be what she was waiting for, for Liam to make the first move, because almost immediately, Louis puts her arms around his waist. Her fingers clench in his shirt and still she doesn't say a word. 

He's not sure how long they stand there like that, but later, when they're locking up, Louis looks better. The circles under her eyes are still there, of course, but she walks away with relaxed shoulders. Liam counts it a win and doesn't think about how much he liked being the one to make her feel that way. 

 

It doesn't change much, not really. Louis is still biting and sharp, a terror to him most days. But she smiles at Liam easier now, let's him inside her space more readily. They've all noticed it, but don't say anything. Harry watches the two of them with a brightness in her eyes that makes Liam feel a bit dizzy. 

Everything's great. Until it isn't. 

 

Christmas sneaks up on Liam. Before he knows it, there's a mad dash to make his train after having to stop at Zayn and Niall's to drop off presents for everyone–"no opening until Christmas!" –and then it's family and food and chaos as everyone gathers at home for the holidays. 

He's so busy there's barely any time to do much more than shoot off _merrrry xmasss xx_ and _happy birthday, louis!!_ texts before his mum calls him back to the kitchen, or orders him to the store, or one of the other six million things that come up. 

 

Liam has barely managed to unpack his suitcase and make a list of groceries he'll need to pick up later when there's a pounding on the door of his flat. 

It's Louis. 

She looks furious, cheeks bright red from that and the cold. Her hair is a wild mess from the wind, regular beanie nowhere in sight. 

"Hello-"

"What the fuck is this, Liam Payne?" 

Louis slaps a red envelope against his chest hard enough that he stumbles back a step. Louis takes advantage, shoving again, until they're inside his flat. 

"What were you _thinking_?" she snarls, slamming the door behind her. Liam winces. 

"The neighbours–"

"Fuck the neighbours!" Liam's never, ever seen her this angry. She pushes at him again, hard. "Do you feel _sorry_ for me, Liam? Is it 'poor little Louis’, she can't even–" 

Louis breaks off then and Liam tries to say something, protest. " _For Dreams_?" Louis snaps, throwing the envelope this time. It bounces off his shoulder and tumbles to the floor. "Niall gets guitar strings and Zayn gets those paints he's wanted for ages and Harry gets new headphones, but me? I get a cash donation? Do I look like a _charity_?" 

"I know you're working hard, Lou. I know about the program in America. I just thought—" Liam runs a hand through his hair. "I know you've been helping out your mum and sisters-"

"Oh, so it _is_ a pity gift. Fuck you then." Louis turns, heading back for the door. Frustrated, Liam reaches out and wraps a hand around her wrist. He needs to explain. 

"No, of course not! Lou, c'mon-"

She spins around, glaring. "I don't need your pity, Liam–"

"It's not fucking pity!" Liam shouts. Louis is so god-damn _difficult_. "Why is everything so fucking hard with you? I swear to god, Louis, it's like you don't even want me to try at all. You're just so damn—"

He's going to say _difficult_ , but never gets that part out. Louis's lips are soft, but her kiss is hard, teeth digging into Liam's bottom lip hard enough that he hisses. 

"What–?"

"Shut up," Louis growls, kissing him again. She's got her hands in his hair, grown out enough from the summer's buzz cut that it's beginning to curl. It's enough that she can tug on it, a little sliver of pain that makes a noise tumble from his mouth. Louis takes advantage–Louis _always_ takes advantage–curling her tongue against his, demanding more attention.

Liam's got her back against the door before he can even think. She's so small, but so opposite of timid, of cowed over by it. She bites his lip again and Liam's got his hands on her arse, lifting her up until she wraps her legs around his waist. 

He's halfway to hard, hips pressing in without thinking when Louis pulls away long enough to gasp, "Bed."

 

They've managed to both lose their shirts by the time Liam makes it to his bedroom. Louis huffs a little when he drops her on the bed, but she kicks off her shoes quick enough, scooting up the bed, fingers fumbling at the button of her jeans. She's got them halfway down her thighs when Liam grabs at the bottom of them, tugging hard. He manages to get her jeans off, sliding her halfway down the bed in the process, causing her to laugh, startled. 

She's wearing Iron Man knickers. 

Before Liam can say anything, Louis mumbles, "Shut up," and pulls him down on top of her, kissing him again. Liam finds he's not really capable of talking anyway, not when Louis gets a hand down his trackies and wraps her hand around his dick. It's his turn then, to scramble at getting his clothes off, to find a condom. 

She's hot and slick when he slides into her, knees pressing against him and heels digging into the back of his legs. Liam wants to slow down, take his time now that his anger's dissipated and he's got Louis spread out beneath him. 

Louis has other plans. She bites at his neck, murmurs, "C'mon, Li, fuck me," in a voice that makes Liam shudder. She gets a hand between their bodies and twists his nipple, hard, and it makes him jerk, pushing in deeper. Louis makes a noise that slides down Liam's spine. 

So he does it again. And again, trying to get that sound one more time. 

He fucks into her until they're both sweaty, until they're nothing but harsh breaths and slick skin, close enough to coming that each press of Louis's nails into his back just makes him work harder, brings him closer. He wants to see her face, but she's got it tucked into the curve of his neck. He can feel the hitch of her breath against his skin.

Another thrust, another breath, and he drags his hand down her side. He digs a thumb into her hip–her breath catches at that–fingers sliding into the space between her arse and the bed until he can tilt her hip up. The next time he pushes into her, Louis whines, tightening around his cock. Twice more and there, that's the sound Liam was wanting, the one that rolls through him and pulls his orgasm out from him. Louis's nails dig into his back, another point of contact that makes his dick pulse again. 

He collapses, half to the side so he doesn't crush Louis, and does his best not to whimper when he pulls out of her. There's only the sound of their harsh breathing in the room, until it finally slows. 

Liam gets out, "Louis-" before she cuts him off with a quiet, "Don't." Closing his mouth, Liam just lays there. Without meaning to, he ends up falling asleep. 

 

When he wakes, Louis's gone, but the red envelope is still on the floor where it fell. 

 

Louis acts like nothing happened. 

It's a testament to her acting skills really. If Liam wasn't dreaming every night about the feel of her skin or the way she sounded, he'd think he'd dreamed the whole thing up. 

The rest of the group is happy to have him back at least. Zayn even drags him to the back alley one afternoon. It's cold as hell, but Zayn's hand is warm. Liam shouldn’t feel so fond over a simple hand job, but it's nice that, in the midst of everything with Louis, it's just _nice_ to know someone wants him here, that people are happy to have him around. 

 

He and Louis end up fucking in the bathroom on New Year’s Eve. Liam's not quite sure whose place they're at, but he's got approximately three seconds to admire the elaborate fixtures before Louis's tugging at his belt and pushing his trousers down. She cuts off his protest with another one of those harsh kisses and that's all it takes apparently. Before he knows it, Liam's dicking into her hard, one arm wrapped around her hips while the other one presses against the mirror to keep them both from falling back. Louis's got her legs wrapped around his waist, ankles crossed, heels digging into his ass this time. Liam can hear the sound of his shirt tearing and couldn't care less. 

She makes that same noise when she comes and still acts like nothing happened the next time she sees him. 

 

It's a new semester so Zayn, Niall, and Harry have a set of new classes. Niall and Zayn's schedules are similar to the fall, but most of Harry's classes shift to evening. Louis's kept one of her holiday jobs so it means they have to hire someone to help out.

 

Niall _loves_ Josh.

The two of them will sit and talk music forever, until Liam has to interrupt and scold Niall for distracting him. It only gets worse when Niall brings her guitar in one day. They learn that Josh plays the drums and from then on, it's like there's constantly music around the place.

 

Liam's not sure whose idea it was, but it's definitely Louis that gets Thursday Mic Nights in order.

Niall is its biggest fan and the first one up at the mic when it opens. It's her enthusiasm, her brilliant smile and nimble fingers that make it as popular as it gets, Liam's sure of it.

A month in and the shop is full. There's a teenager at the mic, skinny jeans and a million scarves, black glass frames sliding low on her nose as she read. From where Liam's standing behind the counter, he can see her hand shaking the tiniest bit. Her voice never waivers though. As he glances around, he can see the faces of those present, all attentive, interested. He feels strangely proud.

"Proper hipster now, aren't we?" He glances over at Louis. She's on the other side of the counter, Harry tucked into her neck even though she's taller. "Got poetry readings now and everything."

Harry makes a shushing sound, mumbles, "Listen, it's really good."

Louis rolls her eyes, but doesn't say anything else, just presses a kiss to the top of Harry's curls. She looks over and catches Liam watching them. After a moment, she smiles. It's small and soft and Liam can't not smile back.

 

Winter rolls into spring with little fanfare. 

Liam rarely spends his nights alone anymore. Sometimes there's sex, sometimes there's not, but someone is always around. He likes that. 

He still can't figure Louis out, but he takes what he can get. Liam's found that he'd rather have those moments than nothing at all. Harry doesn't agree though. It's the only times he's seen Harry truly upset with Louis, when she finally figures out what's going on. They don't speak for two days. 

Two days where Harry clings to Liam like she can wipe away all the bad with sheer willpower and cuddles. She bunks at his place, cooking for him and taking over his telly. It's then that Liam figures out he's kind of in love with her. 

It's a quiet realization, made while he's letting Harry test out a new nail polish on him the second night. They're sat on the floor of his flat, her hand wrapped around his as she digs her teeth into her bottom lip in concentration. An errant curl has made its way out from her headband and she keeps blowing at it. Finally, Liam reaches over and tucks it back under the band. Harry smiles at him, just a one dimple smile, but Liam looks back and thinks _Love_. 

 

It's a terrible nail polish job, but Liam wears it until if finally peels off. It's enough for Harry's smile every time she sees it and for Louis's scowl at the same thing. 

 

"But I know absolutely nothing about art." Liam knows he's whining, but seriously. "Harry, I'm the last person who should be going to this thing."

Harry shushes him, looks over at him and shakes her head. "No. No, go find that blue button up. I like that one better." She runs a hand down his chest. Liam recognizes that look. "Yeah, definitely the blue–"

Liam cuts her off, sliding an arm around her back and pulling her in closer. He presses a soft kiss to her jaw, another at the corner of her mouth. She chases his mouth, grabbing her own kiss. Liam runs a hand down one bare arm and smiles against Harry's lips when she shivers. 

"C'mon, babe. Wouldn't you rather stay in?" he murmurs. 

After another soft press of her lips, Harry pulls back. "It's Zayn's final showing, do _you_ want to miss that?"

With a sigh, Liam goes to find the blue shirt. 

 

It's a student exhibit, so Liam knows that there'll be more than Zayn's work on display. When they get to the gallery, the entrance has a single piece from each of the students and while Liam was being honest with Harry–he really knows nothing about art–even he can tell that Zayn's stuff is _good_. 

They've been there for almost an hour and Liam's itching to get to Zayn's section, but Harry actually enjoys this kind of stuff so it's taking forever. He finds himself wandering away after a bit, eye catching a sculpture across the room that looks like it's been made out of toilet seats. 

A nearby giggle has him glancing over. There are a couple of girls blatantly staring at him, whispering to each other and giggling. He frowns and one of the girls jumps a little before they both turn and take off. Still giggling. 

"Everything okay, Li?" Harry steps into his side, sliding a hand around his arm. Without waiting for his answer, she gushes, "Isn't this great?"

There's a man across the room, staring at Liam. He rakes Liam from head to toe with such a look that Liam kind of wants to take a shower. 

"Liam?"

He drags his gaze back to Harry. She's frowning, and he remembers her question. "Yeah, yeah, I'm fine, Hazza. Can we go find Zayn's stuff now, please?" 

Harry takes pity on him and they make their way through the rest of the exhibits at a much faster pace. By the time they've reached Zayn's section, Liam's caught three other people staring. 

"Are you sure you're okay?" Harry asks again as they turn the next corner of the exhibit. "You've been–" Harry's breath hitches. " _Oh_."

Liam's chin snaps up at the sound in Harry's voice, eyes widening at the piece on the far wall. Good to know it wasn't just his imagination. 

It's only when Harry tugs at his arm that he realizes she's been talking to him. "What?" he asks, dazed. 

"Come on, come on. We need to look," she tells him. Instead of walking straight across the room though, she guides him to a set of pictures directly to his left. "We'll start here." Liam can only nod. Maybe if he doesn't look, it won't actually be real. 

It works after a while, as he and Harry go from display to display. They're all pencil and pen, the stark black and white softened by the obvious love in each piece. It's Zayn's family, he finally realizes, after one portrait of a young girl that looks so much like Zayn it hurts. 

"That's Waaliyah," Harry murmurs and Liam remembers Zayn talking about her. As they go along, she points out people she knows - Zayn's other sisters, his mum and dad, a great-nan. It's different now, all the people that Zayn's talked about. They're real, brought to life by his hands and Harry's words. 

And then they're at the last wall. 

There's Niall on that stupid sofa at the coffee shop, curled around her guitar. Head down, teeth sunk into her lip in concentration. There's strands of hair slipping out from under the backwards snapback, and in his head, Liam can see how the sun coming in front the window glints off it, bright and bold. 

They move to the next picture. 

Harry tucks in to his shoulder after a second, and even though he can't see her face, he knows she's smiling. It's the same smile he's looking at on the wall, delighted and welcoming, as she looks up from where she's leaning against the counter. There's a dimple and the beginnings of the second one on this Harry, and Zayn's captured the smudge of ink on her fingertips from where she's constantly writing in her notebook. 

Louis's picture is different than the other two. While theirs are quiet, still moments caught in frame, Louis's is one of motion. Liam remembers it; a day in the park not too long ago, once the weather warmed up enough, where Niall and Louis had insisted on a game of footie. Louis's the best of them, competitive and determined and quick, and Zayn's managed to capture all of that in the picture that's hung on the wall in front of Liam.

The last piece in the gallery however, the largest one of them, is of Liam. He's not quite sure which session it's from, or if he'd missed Zayn one morning, sketching away while Liam slept. Because that's what it is, Liam on his side, eyes closed in slumber. He looks peaceful, younger than he thought. 

And naked. 

Zayn's sketched in the sheet, but it rides low enough that there's very little left the imagination. It should bother him more, but Liam keeps finding himself drawn to his face, the line of his shoulder, and the smudge of his birthmark. 

"I keep expecting to see you breathe," Harry murmurs and Liam agrees. Zayn's managed to infuse so much quiet warmth in each line of the picture, that he does look almost real. But–

"Why would he choose this one?" Liam gestures to the others. "Why am I even included?" Harry goes still beside him. He can feel her staring at him, but he can't look away from the picture in front of him.

"It's all the people he cares about, all the people he considers home," Harry finally answers, voice quiet. "Why shouldn't you be here?" 

 

This time the realization is not a quiet one. It hits him square in the chest. He's in love with Zayn. And is that even possible, to be in love with both Harry and Zayn? It's like a shot then - bang, bang, bang - he's in love with _all_ of them. Harry, Zayn, Niall, and even– 

Even Louis, whom he's not even sure really _likes_ him. 

He can't breathe. 

"Liam?" Harry's voice is concerned. He turns to look at her and it's written on her face as well. 

"I can't–" he stutters out, "I've, um." He sucks in a huge gulp of air. Harry frowns, confused. "I've got to go. Get some air." He pulls out of her grip, blindly making his way out of the exhibit. At one point before he gets out of the building he stumbles, shoulder catching one another patron. "Sorry," he mumbles, continuing on quickly even as they say something to him. 

It's only as he's flung himself into a cab that he realizes that the person he's bumped into, the one that called out, was Zayn. 

 

Liam's nearly asleep, after lying in bed in the dark for hours, when the bed shifts. "Forgot I gave you a key," he mumbles, pressing his face into the pillow. Fingers brush over the curve of his shoulder, gone so quickly that Liam's not sure he really felt them. 

"Was it so bad?" Zayn's words are light, but Liam can hear the uncertainty underneath. He thinks about it, about what Zayn did. How he put everything out there for the world to see and takes his head out of the pillow. 

"Of course not! Your work's brilliant, _you're_ brilliant. I just-" Liam cuts himself off, burying his face back in the pillow with a groan. 

"Just what?" Zayn pokes at him in the dark, hitting his shoulder and then the side of his head. "You just what, Li?" 

With a huff, Liam turns his head. This time he can feel Zayn's hand smooth firmly over his shoulder until it's curled against the back of his neck. His fingers are warm against Liam's skin. "I just realized a few things, is all," he finally manages to say. 

"Finally cottoned on to the fact that we're not letting you go then, none of us?" Zayn's responds after a moment. His voice is full of laughter now. Full of laughter and the same warmth that's pressed against Liam's neck. 

"None of us, huh?" Liam murmurs. "Even Lou?"

There's a pause, Zayn going still. "Louis's got her own issues to work through, Liam. But she needs you, just like the rest of us do. I promise."

They lay there in silence for a while, Liam settling everything around in his head. Zayn's shifted closer and now Liam's warm all over. Liam pulls him in even more, until they're pressed together fully. Zayn tucks an ankle through Liam's and finally relaxes. 

 

"I don't know," Liam says after a few more minutes have passed, causing Zayn to tense. Liam runs a hand down his back, adding, "To be honest, I don't think Niall really needs anything but her guitar and an order of peri-peri chicken."

 

Liam's got his elbows on the counter watching Niall as she takes notes from one of her textbooks. She's got her hair plaited today, tugging on the end where it's curled into the curve of her neck. Liam's fairly certain that Zayn's the one that did it, and it makes him smile. 

Grabbing a strawberry danish, Liam makes his way over. She looks up as he gets closer, eyes lighting up when she sees the pastry. "You're the best, Leemo." Taking a giant bite out of it, she adds, "My absolute favourite." 

"Glad to know it," he laughs. Niall grins at him, strawberry jelly smeared across her teeth and Liam rolls his eyes. "You're gross."

"I know," Niall agrees. "Isn't it great?" Liam nods, it really is. 

"Love you," tumbles out of his mouth before he can stop it. Niall crams the last bit of Danish in her mouth and says, "Course you do, you arse." 

And that's that. 

 

"Hey Nialler," Liam says later when Niall's switched to another textbook. She looks up at her name. "You got time tonight?" Liam bites his lip. "I've got something I want you to take a look at. With your guitar," he adds quickly, laughing, when Niall leers at him. 

She perks up at that, the same light in her eye as earlier. "You finally gonna let me at your notebook then? You've not shared at all! Even Haz has let me into her deepest, darkest secrets." 

Liam tilts his head. "Does Harry have very many dark secrets?" He can't really imagine that. 

"Nah," Niall grins. "Mostly it's filled with really, really bad knock-knock jokes."

 

Louis's in a nasty mood.

It's been ages since she's been this bad, but Liam recognizes the signs almost immediately. He relegates her to the kitchen and it's like deja vu, the clatter of equipment and such. He turns the shop radio up the slightest bit and prays that nothing is broken by the time they close.

 

"I don't think-" 

Liam manages to pull away long enough to get those words out, for Louis to snap, "Good, don't think," before her mouth is back on his. It's not a nice kiss and Liam hates the way his body still responds to it, how the weight of Louis across his lap makes him hard. 

He lets himself kiss back for a moment, then pulls back again. "I really don't think we should do this here." 

Louis huffs. "We've fucked in the toilet here, Liam." 

He can feel his face flush at that. Not his finest moment as an employee, but it's hard to say no to Louis. The thing is, he's really tired of this go around that Louis has them on; he wants something more. 

"Right, I know, but-"

"Do you want to do this or not?" she growls, leaning in. Liam shifts his hands from where they're settled on her hips, wrapping them around her arms instead, stopping her. Startled, she looks right at him. It's the first time since they'd sprawled on the sofa, closing duties done and blinds pulled shut, that she has. 

"I don't think I do, actually," Liam answers, voice quiet. 

She's looking at him now, eyes wide with surprise. "What?"

"You're angry, Lou. That's been clear all day." She's stiff as a board in his hands. He continues, "And I've let you take that anger out on me plenty of times before, even though I know I shouldn't have. I just thought–" 

He stops, taking a breath. Her shirt is askew, he notices, knocked off one shoulder so that the strap of her bra shows. There are tiny little cupcakes on the material. Liam huffs out a little laugh, dragging his eyes back up to hers. 

Louis looks terrified.

"I just thought I'd rather have any part of you that you were willing to give me," Liam brushes his thumbs over the soft skin where his hands rest. "Rather than no part at all," he finishes softly. 

They sit there, still as statues, until Liam can't take it anymore. Louis hasn’t said a word, it looks like she's barely even breathing. "Louis?" he whispers and leans in slowly. 

She scrambles off his lap so fast she nearly tumbles over the coffee table behind her. "I've got to go," is all she says. Grabbing her bag and hoodie, she's out the door, "Don't forget to lock the door!" trailing behind her. 

 

After a while, Liam pushes himself off the sofa. He turns off all the lights, locks the door, and goes home. 

 

The next day he learns from Harry that applications for Louis's summer program are due in little over a week. Harry tells him about the application that she found under a pile of her textbooks, everything filled out except for the checkboxes next to _audition tape_ and _fee included_. Lou's still short on the money; there's no way she'll be able to get it together in time.

Liam can’t help but think about the money in his savings, about how all it's doing is just sitting there. Then he thinks about what happened at Christmas. Harry must know what going around his head, because she leans in and whispers, "I tried too, you know, but Lou's the most stubborn person I know."

After that, she hands over an ear bud and they stand there, hip to hip, behind the counter and listen to a playlist on Harry's iPod. It's full of sad, slow tunes, and Liam thinks it fits the mood pretty well. 

 

It’s open mic night, the murmur of the small crowd a pleasant buzz in the shop. Liam’s supposed to be at the counter, ready to take orders, but most of the people gathered are regulars to these nights and know he’ll be more than happy to get up if they want something. 

Right now though, he’s taking up space in one of the big cushioned chairs while Harry’s off prepping for tonight’s round of singing and such. On the sofa next to him, Louis’s curled into Niall, close enough that Liam’s not sure where one begins and the other ends. The anger she’s been carrying around for the last couple of days seems to be gone, replaced by an air of resignation that makes Liam’s stomach hurt. 

"I just thought it was something I'd be good at, you know?" She glances over at him, dropping her gaze a second later. "A nice dream to shoot for," she adds softly. 

"It's a great dream to shoot for," Niall tells her. "If you'd just let us help–" 

Louis's fingers dig into Niall's side and she yelps, words cutting off. "I said no, Nialler, and that's that." 

Niall grumbles, rubbing her hand over the bruised area. Louis slides their fingers together, curling their arms around Niall's stomach. She presses a kiss to Niall's cheek and gets a bright smile in return. When Liam glances over to the other end of the sofa, he finds Zayn rolling his eyes. He shakes his head when he sees Liam looking at him, mouths the word, "Stubborn". Liam stifles a laugh. 

Louis’s sigh drags his gaze back. She's got her eyes closed now, head resting on Niall's shoulder. He wants to say something, but a slice of feedback interrupts before he has the chance. 

They all look toward the corner where the mic stand is set up. Harry grins, does a little curtsy, and mumbles, "Sorry," into the mic. Liam can practically hear the hearts melting in the crowd of fifteen or twenty that have gathered. It's not surprising, _everyone_ loves Harry. 

She makes her way over a few minutes later, after someone's stepped up for the first spot, and flops herself into Liam's lap. 

"I can see your knickers," Niall cackles, and Liam slaps her skirt back down when Harry goes to flash her, on purpose this time. Louis's laugh mixes with Niall and Zayn's, drawing his gaze back over to the sofa. There's still sadness around her eyes, but when Harry wiggles in his lap and purrs, "I'll show _you_ my knickers anytime, big guy," making Liam blush bright red, she laughs again. 

When their eyes meet this time, she doesn't look away. Liam thinks they're not okay yet, but they might be soon.

 

It's close to closing time when Harry startles Liam, he'd thought she long fallen asleep, when she mumbles, "You should do one, Lou." 

Louis snorts, "I'm not the singer of the group, Hazza, you know that." Liam glances over to find all three of them a mess of limbs, sprawled across the sofa. He wishes he could reach his phone, he kind of wants a picture. 

"You've got a lovely voice," Harry responds immediately, "but that's not what I meant. Do a monologue." 

That makes Liam shift a little. Harry noises a protest and he presses a kiss to her temple which seems to appease her. "Will you?" he asks. "I've never–"

"She's brilliant," Niall interrupts, wiggling until she can roll over and face Louis. "C'mon, Lou. It's been _ages_." 

Zayn even pokes at her, until finally Louis shoves off the couch with an exasperated, " _Fine_!" and makes her way toward the performance area. 

There's someone in front of her, so Louis has to wait. Liam takes the time to study her, watches as she takes a breath and holds it for a moment, then lets it go. She does this a number of times, and Liam sees her still each time, settle inside herself until she steps in front of the mic. Instead of speaking into it though, she flips it off, setting the stand to the side. It's gotten quiet as everyone watches her. 

She smiles at the people sat near her and says, "It's almost time to close shop, so I thought that this might be appropriate." There's another one of those breathes, eyelashes fluttering closed for a moment before she starts speaking again. 

_If we shadows have offended,_  
 _Think but this, and all is mended_  
 _That you have but slumber'd here_  
 _While these visions did appear_

Liam can barely follow the words, knows it must be Shakespeare or the like, but he follows Louis. The way her words dip and turn, how she seems sincere one instant and mischievous the next. 

Niall's right, she's brilliant. 

At the end, she's knelt in front of one of the attendees, a young man who looks completely besotted.

"Give me your hands, if we be friends," Louis recites, offering a hand, palm out, "And Robin shall restore amends." He slips his hand into hers and Liam feels a flash of jealousy at the way she curls her fingers around it. 

A second later, the young man blurts out, "I'll give you whatever you want," and Louis laughs, the sound ringing out. 

"Be careful with your words," she tells him, standing up. "Haven't you listened at all?" She doesn't give him a chance to answer, instead starts shooing them out until all that's left is the five of them. Locking the door she makes her way over.

"Tell us your name," Niall hollers out and it's only then that Liam realizes she's holding her phone, and that she's recording. Louis bats at her, telling her to put it away, then climbing on her when Niall refuses. The two of them are rolling around, oblivious, while Liam's thinking a mile a minute. 

He glances over at Zayn. He's got an arm upon the sofa, finger tapping against the back of his phone. He smiles at Liam, slow. Beside him, Niall and Louis are still wrestling. Liam doesn't even flinch when Harry mumbles something that sounds an awful lot like _we'll put it together tomorrow_. 

Louis's going to be _so furious_ when she finds out, he knows. But he thinks of the way she'd look up there, under the shitty spotlight that Harry had rigged months ago and knows that he really doesn't care how angry she'll be. Not if they can make this happen. 

 

It's a flurry of activity over the next few days, gathering each of the pieces they need–transferring Louis’s monologue from Zayn’s phone to disc, sneaking out Louis’s application form, and most importantly, gathering up the money–before the postmark deadline. Liam feels like it's constantly written on his face, what they're trying to do, but Louis's shifts at the coffee shop are still tempered by her other job. She's also avoiding being alone with him as much as possible. So, while it makes Liam sad, it's helpful for their covert operation. 

 

Liam's in the kitchen when Harry and Zayn come in through the back entrance. Harry immediately reaches out for Liam, wrapping her arms around his neck. 

"All done?" Liam asks them quietly. Harry nods, her curls tickling Liam’s nose. "Good, good." He reaches out for Zayn, tugging him into his side. Zayn's hand settles low on his back, and his cheek is warm where it rests on Liam's shoulder. 

Now it’s just a waiting game.

 

 

It's hard not to think about. It's even harder not to blurt the whole thing out, especially when Liam will look up from the register and see Louis out on the floor, wiping off tables with a certain look on her face. Like she's doing her best not to think about it. It's those times he wants to run up and tell her, make her finally _look_ at him, and let her know that they gave her the shot she was too stubborn to take in the first place. 

But they have no idea if she'll even be accepted, and Liam thinks that might be worse, to get her hopes up and then not have it work out it the end. So he doesn't say anything. Everything keeps moving on. 

 

"Where's the caramel syrup?" Liam grumbles. He can't find it _anywhere_ and he's got three caramel latte orders sitting in front of him, taunting him with their lack of actual caramel. "Seriously, after all this time can we still not-"

Josh pokes his head out of the kitchen. "Is it not where it's supposed to be? I swear I put it back." 

Earlier in the week, Josh had dyed the tips of his faux-hawk blonde. Liam, if he's honest about it, thinks it looks a bit stupid, but right now it's the best thing he's seen all day. All year even. He feels a bit of a dolt, because the only place he _hasn't_ looked, of course, is where the syrup is actually supposed to be. 

"I could kiss you," he says, in lieu of his thoughts on Josh's hair, and gets a grimace in response. 

"No thanks, mate. I don't wanna deal with your harem." Liam can feel his face heating up at that. It doesn't help when Josh adds, "I love Niall and all, but I think she might eat my arm if I got anywhere near your bits." A pause. "Not that they're not nice bits, of course," then, "not really the kind of bits I like, but-" 

"Thank you, Josh," Liam interrupts. "I should be good now, thanks." Josh grins and ducks back into the kitchen. Liam wants to bang his head on the espresso machine in front of him, but he doesn't. He reaches under the counter and pulls out the caramel syrup instead. 

At least there's one person who does what he tells them. He'll take it as a win. 

 

Liam's on the sofa, head lolling on the back of the sofa and sun warming his face. Not too far away, he can hear the sound of Zayn's pencils on his sketchpad. Aiden and Matt are having a quiet conversation in their usual spot, voices nothing but a low murmur in the empty coffee shop. 

It's nice, and warm, and he's nearly asleep when someone lands on his lap. He reflexively reaches up to steady the body, eyes going wide when he sees who it is. 

"You're a terrible employee, Mr. Payne," Louis says. Her words are bold, like Louis always is, but she's watching Liam with a tentative gaze. It's the first time she's voluntarily touched him in what feels like _ages_. Liam's missed the feel of her, but he didn't realize how much until just now. His fingers tighten on her hips the slightest bit. 

She grins wide, the slightly lopsided one where her eyes crinkle up and Liam can barely breathe. 

"For certain!" She pokes him the forehead, "Napping on the job–" tugs at his skewed collar, adding, "and so messy!" There's a haphazard wave of a hand toward the counter. "You never put stuff back where it goes! You're a wreck!" 

"I think you mean you, Louis," Zayn murmurs from where he's sat. There's the small smile on his face when Liam glances over, watching as Zayn flips to a new page and starts sketching quickly. Louis huffs in indignation at the accusation. 

"Well, I never!" 

"I think that's his whole point, love," Liam teases. He feels rather bold, with Louis's bright smile and Zayn's quiet mirth.

It earns him a nipple twist, a quick, bright pain that he's not sure has ever felt so good. Louis flounces off his lap, throwing a, "Fine, if you're going to be rude that means none of Harry's blackberry lemon trifle for either of you," over her shoulder. As a threat, it's a great one. Harry's trifles are usually the first thing they sell out of when it's the special of the day.

Liam and Zayn barely glance at each other before they scramble off the couch. 

 

As the days continue to roll by, Liam realizes that he’s happier than he’s probably ever been in his entire life. It seems like there’s always someone touching him – a hand on his shoulder, an arm around his waist, or soft curls against his cheek – and he rarely sleeps alone any longer, always waking up to warm skin, stolen sheets and pillows. 

And there’s the rest of it, too: Niall's cackling laughter, the sound of her guitar; Zayn's pencil, scratching away, and the hand around the back of Liam's neck when they talk. There's Harry using him as furniture, sprawling across his sofa or draped over his back at the register counter, always warm against him. It's Louis, quick and sharp-tongued, eyes crinkling when she really, _really_ smiles which is starting to happen more often in the last few days. 

She’s even taken to terrorizing him again. Something that, a year ago, he would never have thought would make him smile as hard as it does. 

Liam’s in love and loved, never alone. _Happy_. 

 

Aiden walks into the shop on a glorious, sunny spring day and announces that Matt's proposed. He looks wide-eyed and shocked and everyone teases him. 

They have a celebration at the shop. Harry hangs a ridiculous banner across the wall above the door to the kitchen, announcing the occasion, and all the customers get a free cupcake. Later that evening, she presents the two of them with a small heart-shaped chocolate cake, everyone cat-calling when Aiden dips Matt and kisses the hell out of him. It's the first time Liam thinks he's ever seen Matt blush. 

Aiden's cutting the cake, the simple silver band on his left ring finger glinting in the overhead lights. Harry's tucked into Liam's side, her head on his shoulder at an angle that he knows can't be comfortable. She murmurs, "Rings would be nice," and then starts humming something that Liam knows he should know but can't quite place. 

From the corner of his eye, Liam catches the slight movement of Zayn's head toward them. When he glances over though, Zayn's still watching Matt and Aiden. There's no indication that he heard Harry's quiet words. 

Still, Liam thinks, it _would_ be nice.

 

 

Three weeks pass and there’s still no response. Even Niall’s unending optimism wavers when Harry comes into the shop, day after day, and shakes her head at their unasked question. 

They continue to wait. 

 

Liam coughs, nervous. Behind him he can hear Niall picking at the strings of her guitar, making sure they're in tune. His knees feel shaky. 

Harry bumps her hip against his and he looks at her. She's grinning, both dimples in full force. "Are you ready for your debut, pop star?"

He bumps her back and replies, "Don't you mean _our_ debut?" She smiles harder and Liam feels better. Glancing back, he gets a chin nod from Niall; she's ready. He steps up closer to the mic. 

"So, um–" his voice cracks a little. Clearing his throat, he continues, "We're singing a song tonight that wouldn't really exist at all if it wasn't for these two," he points at Niall and Harry. "I'd been carry around the pieces of it for a while, words and phrases that meant something to me–" 

Liam can't help glancing over the crowd toward the sofa. He doesn't let his gaze linger too long on the two figures curled around each other. "But weren't coming together like I wanted, you know?"

Glancing back over his shoulder, he smiles at Niall. "So I asked Niall here for some help, because she's amazing." He can see Niall blush, laughs at the way she ducks her head and grins. He adds, "She happens to be pretty damn good at guitar, too. Which doesn't hurt when you're trying to write a song." There are hollers and clapping from the audience, and Niall ducks her head again. 

"Hurry up, Payno," she tells him, popping the brim of her snapback down and back up. "People want to hear the song, not your yapping." Liam sticks his tongue out at her and she makes a rude gesture back, laughing. 

"Fine, fine," he says, turning his attention back to the mic and the crowd in front of him. "So I had the words and Niall had the chords, but it wasn't until we dragged Harry here–" he reaches over and pokes the spot in her cheek where her dimple would be, "that it really started coming together. She's the glue of the whole thing, you see." 

Harry's eyes are clear green, bright and warm as she looks back at him, waiting. 

"Everyone loves our Hazza," he murmurs, and she smiles, dimples there and real and just for him. He smiles back. "But enough of that," Liam tells the crowd. "How about a song?" They holler and clap in response. Liam laughs, says, "Here we go!" and Niall starts playing. 

 

For all the smiles and laughter, Liam's still nervous. Harry and Niall have heard the words before, but this is the first time Zayn or Louis have and, well. It's like Zayn's pictures on the wall at the gallery, all those feelings splashed about for the entire world to see. It's a little daunting, even though he's pretty sure they already know.

_You tell me that you're sad and lost your way_

His voice breaks coming in at the beginning and he closes his eyes to continue. 

_That your tears are here to stay_  
 _but I know that you were only hiding_  
 _and I just wanna see ya_

_Tell that you're hurtin' and you're in pain_  
 _and I can see your head is held in shame_  
 _but I just wanna see you smile again_  
 _smile again_

Liam's still got his eyes closed, but the sound of Niall's voice rising up to meet his as the song continues makes him grin. 

_Don't burn out_  
 _Even if you scream and shout_  
 _It'll come back to you_  
 _And I'll be there for you_

There's a pause, a quiet bit where it's the fade of Niall's last strum, and Liam can feel Harry thread their fingers together, feel the line of warmth where she's pressed into his side. He opens his eyes, keeps them on her as they go into the chorus. Harry's voice is rich and raspy, curled into his own in a way that he loves. 

_Oh, I would carry you over_  
 _Fire and Water for your love_  
 _and I will hold you closer_  
 _hope your heart is strong enough_

_When your heart is coming down on you  
We will find a way through the dark_

They go through another round of verses, the crowd really getting into it. Liam misses a word when Harry does a couple of twirls, curls flying everywhere. She's laughing when she falls back into his side. Liam's never felt a rush like this. It feels like his heart's going to burst out of his chest. 

Liam makes himself look over at the sofa. He wants Louis and Zayn to be part of this. They _are_ a part of it, he wrote it for them. For all of them. He needs to know if they feel it too, feel the same thing that he, Niall, and Harry are sharing right now. 

Zayn's smile is a mile wide, his temple leaning against the top of Louis's head where she's pulled in tight beside him. And Louis--

Louis is staring right at him, unblinking. She doesn't look away and he can't take his eyes off her.

_And you don't need, you don't need to run_  
 _And you will see, it's easy to be loved_  
 _I know you wanna be loved_

 

Louis gets into the workshop program. 

They find out nearly six weeks from the day they’d mailed everything off, right after the lunch rush on a Tuesday when Harry comes slamming through the door of the shop. It makes the bell above jangle harshly, but Liam's too caught up in the way Harry's out of breath, her cheeks bright red and with two different pairs of socks on, to reprimand her. 

She shouts for Louis once and then leans over the counter and yells again. There's a half-crumpled envelope in Harry's hand that makes Liam's heartbeat pick up. He wants to ask, but Harry's only got eyes for the doors of the kitchen. They go even brighter when Louis pops her head out, asking about all the fuss. Harry can't even talk, just shoves the envelope in her hand and grins wider. 

 

Liam's not sure how he's expecting Louis to respond, but it's not the way her smile fades. Or the way her lips press together in a thin line, the muscle that twitches in her jaw. It's not watching her carefully fold the letter back up and placing it back in the envelope, and sliding it back over to Harry then turning and making her way back into the kitchen without a word. 

That's definitely not the reaction he was expecting. And by the way Harry's face falls, it's not hers either. 

 

"You can't be mad at just Liam," Harry says. Louis won't look at her, just continues filling the napkin holder on the table. "We _all_ put in, each of us." Louis doesn't say anything. Harry throws her hands up in exasperation. "He didn't even know about it at first!" 

For the last three days or so, Louis's not spoken to Liam other than to put in an order or check on something at work. He understands why, what with Christmas and all, but he doesn't think it's very fair. Neither does Harry, given the way she's been arguing at Louis for the last half hour. 

"If you don't go, Lou–" Liam's head jerks up. That's new. "It'll be the dumbest thing you've ever done and you're not stupid!"

Louis finally snaps, slamming down the napkin holder in her hand. "I know you guys couldn't have paid that entire fee yourselves, Harry. And I sent my savings home to mum!" 

She's furious, the line of her back ramrod straight as she gets in Harry's face. It should look funny with how much shorter she is than Harry, but it's Louis, who takes up so much space with her personality on a regular day that she always feels bigger, taller. 

Angry, she fills the room. 

"You had no right to ask her for that money, Harry! No right at all! She _needs_ it–"

"It was her idea," Harry interrupts, voice quiet in the space behind Louis's angry half-shout. "She's the one that came to me."

Liam can see the way Louis deflates at Harry's softly spoken words, her shoulders dropping, chin tucked down to her chest. Harry reaches out, fingers trailing down Louis's arm and then twining with her fingers. She ducks her head down, searching Louis's face. 

"You've done enough, Louis." Liam almost doesn't catch the words, they're so quiet. "She just wants to take care of you, too, you know." Harry lifts her head, pressing a soft kiss to Louis's forehead. "So let her, okay? Let _us_ do this for you." Another kiss, on the high curve of a cheekbone. "You deserve good things."

Louis practically crumples into Harry after that, hands wrapping around Harry's waist. She buries her face in Harry's neck, and Liam can tell how hard Harry's trying not to cry. She sends him a watery smile over the top of Louis's head, her own arms locked tight around Louis. 

 

Liam's fresh out of a shower, in a clean pair of long shorts and pulling an old, soft tee over his head when there's a knock at the door. It's Louis, to his surprise. 

"Lou!" He can't help smiling, opening the door wider to let her in. She steps inside and his skin buzzes when she brushes against him. 

They stand there kind of awkwardly; Louis's not really looking at him, not until he stumbles over, "Shouldn't you be packing?" 

She's set to fly out the next morning, and Liam's stomach turns a little; she's going to be gone all summer. It's going to be weird, he thinks, without the sound of her voice around. Without _her_ around. Harry wasn't the only one crying earlier that evening when they'd gathered to say goodbye. Easier to do it then, they figured, since Louis's flight leaves really early the next morning. 

"All done," she answers. 

"Excited, huh?" Louis nods, and Liam wants to smack himself in the face. It shouldn't be this hard to have a conversation with her. He's got his mouth open, to ask what he's not got a clue, when Louis huffs.

"This is ridiculous," she says, almost to herself. Then, straightening her shoulders, she looks right at Liam. 

"Look, Payno, I've been a bitch–" He opens his mouth to protest and she holds up a finger, adding, "A total wanker, I know, almost from the beginning. And there's no excuse for it and I can't really even begin to make up for the things I've done, what I blamed on you even though it wasn't your fault at all. I just–" 

She stops, biting her lip. 

Liam can't stop himself from stepping closer. She doesn't seem to notice. Caught up in her head, he knows. Harder on herself, Liam's come to learn, than anyone else ever is. 

"I just wanted to apologise," she finally continues, "make a clean slate for us. Before I left." 

She looks up at him, gaze fierce, like she can force him to accept what she's offering by sheer force of will alone. Liam's not sure she couldn't really. But it's not going to take that much. "So this is me apologizing, saying I'm sor–"

Liam kisses her. 

 

"This is so cheesy," Louis says to him, an indeterminate time later. She's pulled back and her mouth is red, distracting. "I can't believe you're this cheesy, Payno." Her voice is rough though, scratchy in that way he knows means she likes it, likes what he's doing. So he just says, "Hush, Lou," and kisses her again. 

 

Liam takes her to bed; this time without the anger, without the silence from that first time. 

It's slower; Liam takes his time, painting her body with his mouth, with his hands. It's the dig of her nails into his back again, but now he gets to hear the way her voice cracks on his name. 

It's the warmth of her body when he falls asleep and again when he wakes up. 

 

When the taxi pulls up early the next morning, Harry's standing on the curb. She's bleary-eyed and sleep-messy, waiting for them with Louis's bags at her feet. They step out of the car and Harry holds out her arms, fingers wiggling. Louis steps into them without hesitation. They hold onto to each other until Liam has to clear his throat, murmur that she'll miss her flight if she doesn't go now. 

It seems to do the trick, the two of them breaking away from each other. Louis grabs one of her bags and Liam helps with the other. Finally there's nothing left but to say another goodbye. Harry tries, but Louis stops her, pressing a quick, hard kiss to her mouth, silencing it.

Liam takes his own cue from that, keeps his words to himself, and gets a similar kiss. She nips at his bottom lip though, making him laugh. They all ignore how choked it sounds. 

Then she's gone with the slam of a car door. 

They watch as the taxi disappears around a corner. He wraps an arm around Harry's shoulders, pulling her in until her curls are a familiar tickle against his cheek. "Niall and Zayn inside?" he murmurs. She nods, nodding again when he asks, "Still asleep?"

"Come on then." He pulls her back inside, ignoring the ache in his chest. 

 

* * *

 

"Come _on_ , Niall." Harry's voice is exasperated, a rare tone for her, especially with Niall. 

"Bugger off," is the response she gets. "I'll be glad when Lou does get back, you fuckers' legs are too long."

Liam would laugh, but they're going to be late. Lou's flight landed fifteen minutes ago. He wants to be waiting for her when she's finally off the plane, wants to make sure she knows that the summer was stupidly long, that they've missed her. 

 

People are coming through the gate already when they get there. "I don't see her," Harry grumbles, and Liam puts a reassuring hand low on her back even as he searches every face that passes. 

He's getting a bit frustrated too when Zayn's, " _Oh_ ," catches him off guard. Liam glances over, but Zayn's staring across the room, looking like someone punched him. With a frown, Liam follows his gaze, Harry and Niall's bickering fading to white noise as he catches sight of Louis. 

She's tan, skin a golden brown from the L.A. summer. Zayn leans into Liam, and he knows exactly what Zayn's thinking, wondering if her skin will taste as warm as it looks. He slides his hand into Zayn's, pulling him forward. Niall and Harry follow immediately. 

Louis's hair is shorter now too, catching at the corners of her jaw. It makes her cheekbones stand out in sharp relief as she glances around, looking for someone. 

Looking for _them_.

Niall shouts her name across the room, and they all watch as her head snaps around at the sound. It's easy to see when she catches sight of their group, hard to miss with Niall hollering from where she's now perched on Harry's back. From the corner of his eye, Liam can see a security guard frowning at the ruckus. 

He doesn't care though, because Louis is smiling, wide and bright, making her way towards them. 

 

He doesn't care because she's back where she belongs. She's _home_.

 

* * *

 


End file.
